</2^  £+f*         *|  / 


Jo 

. 


M.  CATCHING 


"You  can't  arrest  me!  I've  committed  no  crime!' 


THE  DRAG-NET 

A  PRISON  STORY  OF 
THE   PRESENT  DAY 

By 

ELIZABETH  BAKER  BOHAN 

Illustrated  by 

LANGDON  SMITH 


THE  C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
BOSTON,   MDCCCCIX 


O*   CAUK  UtfKAK*,  LUb 


COPYRIGHT,  1909 

BY 

THE  C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  Co. 

BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 

u.  s.  A. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


PRESS    OP   MURRAY  AND  EMERY  COMPANY 
BOSTON,    MASSACHUSETTS 


To  THE  UNFORTUNATES  WHO  HAVE 

SUFFERED  INJURY  BY  REASON  OF  THE 

UNCHRISTIAN  ADMINISTRATION  OP 

OUR  PENAL  INSTITUTIONS 


2125576 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.    TheBoy 1 

II.    The  Dream  Come  True 13 

III.  The  Bishop 20 

IV.  The  Haunting  Face 28 

V.    The  Prisoner 37 

VI.     The  Compact 48 

VII.     The  Marriage 70 

VIII.     Beginning  the  Work 80 

IX.    The  Travelers 89 

X.     A  Hard  Blow 97 

XI.     The  Drag-Net 107 

XII.     The  Prisoners 114 

XIII.  The  Great  Blow  Falls 127 

XIV.  An  Unwelcome  Avowal 140 

XV.    The  Two  Girls 149 

XVI.     A  Straightforward  Talk 165 

XVII.    The  Two  Codes 173 

XVIII.     The  Ultimatum  186 

XIX.     Lavender  and  Rose 194 

XX.     Too  Plain  a  Fact 202 

XXI.     Elemental  Passions 211 

XXn.     Just  Brutes    223 

XXIII.  Immolation 229 

XXIV.  A  Call  to  Self-Sacrifice 241 

XXV.    Redding    248 

XXVI.     Madam  Morello'^  Education 259 

XXVII.     Not  in  Their  Hands   266 

XXVIII.     The  Two  Lovers   275 

XXIX.    The  Missing  Link 281 

XXX.     Perkins 293 

XXXI.     "  Greater  Love  Hath  No  Man  " 303 

XXXII.     The  Slender  Thread  of  Life 310 

XXXIII.  Amends 318 

XXXIV.  Conclusion 325 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 
"  You  can't  arrest  me!  I've  committed  no  crime!"  Frontispiece 

The  man's  profile  was  turned  to  them 42 

They  came  down  upon  the  floor  together  with  a  tremen- 
dous crash 216 

"  You've  never  lived — my  God!  You've  never  lived!". . .  .245 

"After  all,  my  life  is  not  in  their  hands" 269 

Once  again  in  a  filmy  white  gown  she  met  him 331 


THE   DRAG-NET 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  BOY 

HE  had  had  a  bitter  quarrel  with  his  father  three  years 
before  and  had  left  St.  Pius,  where  their  little  home  was 
situated,  and  had  gone  as  far  east  as  the  land  lay.  He 
had  worked  or  not  worked  as  the  case  might  be,  but  he 
had  always  paid  his  meager  way.  Now  a  strong 
impression  had  come  to  him  to  get  back  home.  It  was 
not  only  the  lure  of  the  West  Coast,  it  was  a  distinct 
message,  he  told  himself,  that  he  was  needed  at  home; 
so  he  started  off  to  cross  the  continent  as  best  he  could. 
Tall  and  thin,  with  eyes  of  a  dreamer,  but  the  weak 
chin  of  inexperience  and  unevolved  will-power,  he  had 
followed  the  dream  always,  without  troubling  himself 
to  reason  about  it;  but  there  was  nothing  at  all  bad  in 
him. 

Sometimes  he  stoked  for  a  ride;  sometimes  he  rode 
the  brake-beams,  or  shivered  on  top  of  a  freight  car,  but 
the  dream  sustained  him — the  dream  of  walking  into  the 
little  home  near  the  sea  and  seeing  his  mother's  worn 
face  light  up  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  him,  her  only  child, 
come  back  to  her  voluntarily — pulled  by  the  sheer  force 
of  mother  love.  To  accomplish  that  end  he  had  gone 
hungry  on  the  way,  rather  than  encroach  upon  the  few 

1 


THE  DRAG-NET 

dollars  stowed  safely  away  in  a  belt  about  his  waist, — 
the  few  dollars  that  were  to  buy  a  cheap  suit  of  clothes, 
to  procure  a  shave  and  a  bath,  that  he  might  present 
himself  decently  to  his  mother. 

He  had  had  to  walk  the  last  twenty  miles  or  so,  having 
been  discovered  and  quickly  shunted  from  the  Santa  Fe 
after  it  had  passed  Amassa,  but  now  he  was  near  the 
city,  where,  that  night,  cleaned  and  refreshed,  he  would 
take  an  electric  car  for  St.  Pius.  He  was  numb  with 
cold,  for  it  was  the  last  of  November.  His  head  ached, 
but  the  dream  clothed  everything  radiantly — the  dream 
that  would  come  true  that  night. 

He  had  two  stale  rolls  and  a  spoonful  of  coffee,  still, 
in  his  pockets,  so  he  went  down  into  the  arroyo  to  take 
his  last  vagabond  meal.  It  took  a  little  time  to  build 
the  scrap  of  fire  to  boil  his  tin  cup  of  coffee,  but  it  was 
done  at  last  and  he  scattered  the  brands  over  the  damp 
earth,  that  he  might  leave  them  in  a  few  moments  in 
safety. 

He  was  munching  away  when  a  slouching  figure  hove 
in  sight. 

"  Hello,  pard,  's  grub  flush  ?" 

He  tossed  the  fellow  his  other  roll,  nodding  pleasantly. 
He  was  so  near  the  end  of  it  all,  it  didn't  matter;  and 
the  professional  hobo  was  no  whit  worse  looking  than 
he,  as  to  costume,  though  the  bleary  eyes  and  bibulous 
nose  would,  to  the  eye  of  discernment,  place  them  as  far 
apart  as  the  poles. 

But  it  was  not  with  eyes  of  discernment  that  two 

2 


THE  BOY 

policemen  bore  down  upon  them,  the  next  moment,  and 
placed  them  under  arrest. 

The  bibulous  one  yielded  sullenly,  but  the  boy  pro- 
tested. 

"You  can't  arrest  me!  I  haven't  committed  any 
crime !"  he  cried  out  indignantly. 

"Can't,  hey?  You  just  try  to  get  away  and  see!" 
said  the  one  nearest  him.  They  had  no  weapons  in 
sight,  though  the  boy  knew  they  had  them.  He  looked 
wildly  around,  for  the  dream  was  vanishing  and  it  made 
him  great  with  bitterness.  The  other  officer  was  en- 
gaged with  his  fellow  in  distress.  He  had  but  one  to 
cope  with.  He  turned  unreasoningly  to  grasp  a  stick 
near  by,  when  the  policeman's  club  came  down  upon 
the  small  of  his  back,  and  he  dropped  like  lead,  with  a 
scream  of  agony. 

"  Look  here,  you  vag,  get  up  and  walk  along  without 
a  fuss  or  you'll  get  what's  coming  to  you,"  cried  the 
man  of  law. 

The  boy  staggered  painfully  to  his  feet,  pressing  his 
hands  to  his  back,  and  they  started  off. 

At  the  station  his  precious  belt  with  his  little  all  was 
yielded  up  to  the  desk  sergeant,  and  he  was  entered  as 
a  vagrant  under  the  name  of  Jake  Cummings. 

An  outer  iron-barred  gate  was  unlocked  by  the  turn- 
key and  he  was  taken  across  the  hall  to  another  gate, 
which  was  also  unlocked,  and  was  shoved  in.  This  was 
a  space  between  two  tiers  of  cells  which  swarmed  with 
human  beings,  young  and  old. 


THE  DRAG-NET 

The  cell  in  which  he  was  finally  stowed  already  con- 
tained three  times  the  number  it  was  designed  for. 
There  was  but  standing-room  for  another,  and  the  boy 
took  it,  his  eyes  wide  open  with  horror  at  the  indecency 
of  such  close  contact,  his  nostrils  repelling  the  foul  odors, 
his  throat  swelling  with  impotent  anger  at  the  iniquity 
practised  upon  him. 

After  a  time  he  could  stand  it  no  longer,  so  he  crowded 
his  lean  slim  body  down  where  his  feet  had  been,  draw- 
ing his  knees  up  under  his  chin  and  clasping  his  arms 
about  them;  but  the  movement  caused  agony,  and  he 
groaned  aloud.  Imprecations  upon  him  followed  from 
several  of  the  men  who  were  trying  to  sleep,  and  he  set 
his  teeth  together  and  tried  to  bear  it  as  silently  as  he 
might. 

The  barred  door  was  opened  once  more  and  a  blanket 
was  flung  at  him.  It  might  once  have  been  grey  and 
clean,  but  now  was  brown  and  stiff  with  human  reek. 
It  sickened  the  boy,  as  did  the  vermin  that  soon  crept  in 
swarms  about  him.  Two  nights  he  had  slept  on  top  of 
a  box  car  and  had  shivered  in  the  biting  wind,  but  now 
he  thought  of  it  as  heaven  in  comparison  with  this  hell 
that  he  was  in. 

Towards  midnight  his  pain  became  so  intense  that 
he  shrieked  and  cursed.  There  was  a  great  lump  where 
the  blow  had  fallen  and  cold  as  it  was  the  sweat  poured 
from  him,  wetting  his  ragged  clothing  through.  A 
couple  of  drunks  were  brought  in  and  shoved  into  the 
next  cell,  where  they  fell  on  top  of  the  sleepers  on  the 

4 


THE  BOY 

steel  floor,  there  being  no  vacant  place;  and  immedi- 
ately there  was  a  mixup  until  the  guard  clubbed  them 
into  a  silence . 

He  was  ordered  to  stop  his  noise  and  threatened  with 
the  club,  but  he  begged  so  earnestly  for  help  that  the 
guard  at  last  listened. 

"  For  God's  sake — for  God's  sake,  get  me  help.  I'm 
sick  and  shall  die  before  morning. " 

" Keep  still,  then,  and  I'll  go  and  see." 

After  an  interminable  time  the  guard  returned,  and 
piloted  the  boy  to  the  hospital  room  of  the  jail,  where 
for  a  week  he  hovered  between  life  and  death.  The 
rude  care  that  he  received  there  and  the  clean  hardiness 
of  his  young  muscles  saved  him,  and  the  second  week 
found  him  back  again  in  his  cell  enduring  as  best  he 
could  its  loathsomeness. 

In  the  third  week  came  his  hearing  at  the  police 
court ;  and  here  he  was  convicted  of  vagrancy  and  resist- 
ing an  officer,  and  given  sixty  days. 

Then  back  to  the  cell  again  where  he  crouched  upon 
the  steel  floor,  and  hid  his  face  upon  his  knees.  He  felt 
that  a  vast  mesh  had  been  woven  about  him  from  which 
there  was  no  escape. 

But  the  dream  had  become  more  vivid,  for  it  was  all 
he  had  to  live  upon.  As  he  sat,  after  his  sentence,  with 
his  face  hidden  upon  his  knees,  he  saw  oh,  so  clearly,  the 
cottage  at  St.  Pius,  but  twenty  miles  away,  in  its  garden 
of  flowers.  Over  the  little  kitchen  at  the  back,  his 
mother  always  had  nasturtiums  climbing,  and  from  his 


THE  DRAG-NET 

childhood  he  had  loved  to  pick  the  green  seeds  for  her, 
and  drop  them  into  glass  jars  of  vinegar.  As  he  remem- 
bered, the  taste  of  boiled  mutton  with  its  mock  caper 
sauce,  flavored  with  those  seeds,  came  to  him ;  and  then 
he  thought  of  the  prison  fare — fare  so  bad  at  times  that 
dogs  might  refuse  it. 

The  next  day  he  was  made  to  "run  the  gauntlet." 

In  a  big  room  or  hall  the  officers  of  the  law  were  lined 
up,  facing  each  other;  within  a  narrow  space  between 
these  lines  the  prisoners  were  required  to  walk,  the 
crime  or  fancied  crime  for  which  he  was  arrested  being 
announced  as  the  poor  wretch  started.  This,  the 
officers  repeated,  with  many  additions,  with  many 
gratuitous  insults,  and  sometimes  personal  violence. 

The  man  preceding  the  boy  was  bent  and  old,  and 
wore  a  beard  upon  his  chin,  which  amused  the  clean- 
shaven officers  of  the  law  mightily.  They  jerked  the 
grey  beard  this  way  and  that,  calling  him  billy  goat,  as 
he  passed,  and  one  exemplified  the  mighty  power  resid- 
ing in  his  badge  by  slapping  the  old  man  in  the  face. 

The  boy  saw,  and  his  great  brown  eyes  threw  out 
flinty  lights,  and  his  hands  gathered  up  into  knotty  fists, 
which,  however,  hung  helplessly  by  his  side. 

They  jeered  him,  too,  as  he  walked  through  the  lines, 
calling  him  vag,  hobo,  thief,  each  one  as  it  suited  him; 
and  peered  into  his  face  that  they  might  know  him 
again,  should  he  be  so  fortunate  as  to  get  out  of  the  web 
this  time.  And  if  a  deputy  sheriff  found  him,  or  any 
other  vagrant,  twenty-four  hours  after  his  release,  and 

6 


THE  BOY 

he  could  show  no  occupation  or  abiding  place,  the  taxes 
of  the  city  would  provide  him — the  man  of  law — two 
dollars  and  a  half  for  the  valorous  deed  of  hauling  him 
back  again  to  prison.  Hence,  the  espionage  of  a  re- 
leased unfortunate  was  good  business,  and  was  closely 
followed  up. 

When  lined  up  to  "run  the  gauntlet"  he  saw,  for  the 
first  time,  a  man  he  had  known  in  St.  Pius.  He  went 
cold  from  head  to  foot,  as  the  man  recognized  him. 
They  had  been  mere  acquaintances  and  he  had  been 
away  three  years,  but  the  man  knew  him — there  was  no 
doubt  of  that.  Unless  he  could  get  a  promise  from  him, 
and  the  man  was  decent  enough  to  keep  his  promise, 
what  hope  had  he  of  keeping  this  disgrace  from  his 
mother  ?  He  could  see  the  terror  in  her  gentle  face  as 
she  saw  his  real  name  in  the  paper,  or  perhaps  was  told 
by  some  meddling  neighbor.  He  had  been  so  glad 
that  she  need  never  know  this  experience  of  his.  To  be 
sure  they  had  his  picture  in  the  "rogues' gallery"  but 
she  would  never  see  it,  and  once  down  in  St.  Pius  all  this 
would  become  nothing  but  a  horrible  dream.  But  now, 
— there  was  a  man  who  knew  him. 

The  next  day  he  was  put  upon  the  chain  gang,  and 
his  chance  came.  As  one  wagon  after  another  received 
its  load  of  men  and  started  on,  he  found  himself  seated 
by  the  side  of  this  man. 

"  Joe,  where 'd  you  come  from  ?"  asked  the  man. 

"  Hush!"  whispered  the  boy.  " I  gave  a  wrong  name 
'cause  of  Mother." 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"What  name?" 

"Jake  Cummings." 

"An' it's  Joe  Caldwell." 

"Don't!  I  don't  want  Mother  ever  to  know.  It 
would  kill  her  and  I  aint  done  anything  wrong.  I  was 
jest  going  home  when  they  run  me  in.  You  won't  let 
on,  will  you  ?" 

"Nope!  'Taint  nothin'  ter  me.  Say,  do  you  know 
your  father's  dead  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  boy  tremblingly.  "No,  I  didn't. 
I'm  sorry.  Is  Mother  all  alone  ?" 

"Yes.     All  alone 's  far  as  I  know." 

"When  did  he  die?" 

"  Must  be  most  a  year  ago !" 

The  guard  on  horseback,  with  the  guns,  rode  close 
to  them  and  they  stopped  talking. 

All  day  they  worked  at  road-making  north  of  the  city 
in  the  hills,  and  the  boy  thanked  heaven  for  the  fresh 
air.  If  only  they  would  let  him  come  out  every  day,  he 
might  bear  the  horrors  of  the  night,  and  the  sixty  days 
would  pass,  and  he  would  be  free. 

But  the  old  mother,  all  alone,  longing  for  him,  pray- 
ing for  him,  as  he  well  knew  she  did !  He  set  his  teeth 
together,  that  he  might  not  curse  his  captors  aloud, 
and  receive  the  ever  ready  blow.  His  back  was  still 
lame  and  tender  to  the  touch,  and  his  head  ached  a 
great  deal. 

Two  or  three  times  he  had  caught  sight  of  the  patrol- 
man who  had  arrested  him.  This  man  was  tall  and 

8 


THE  BOY 

fine  looking  in  a  sort  of  Spanish-American  way,  and  the 
boy  had  heard  him  called  Morello.  The  other  man 
who  had  been  with  him  down  in  the  arroyo  seco  was 
older  and  had  a  more  cynical  expression. 

Morello  was  the  one  to  be  hated.  He  thought  of 
him  at  night,  when  he  was  not  thinking  of  his  mother 
and  the  little  home;  and  he  dreamed  of  situations  in 
which  he  had  Morello  in  his  power. 

Cast  originally  in  the  matrix  love,  the  lapidary  years 
had  rudely  chiseled  it  away  until  he  had  become  a  deep 
intaglio,  and  all  that  was  left  him  that  was  worth  while 
was  what  still  remained  of  the  matrix, — the  mother  love 
and  the  dreams  they — the  mother  and  he — had  shared. 

The  two  things  held  him,  the  love  and  the  hate. 

For  two  weeks  they  worked  in  the  hills.  Then  one 
day  his  head  ached  so  fearfully  that  he  refused  to  go  out 
into  the  intense  sunlight.  For  this  he  was  put  in  the 
dungeon  where  he  shivered  all  day  in  the  dampness  and 
darkness,  and  grew  worse.  After  that  he  went  out 
every  day. 

When  in  the  hills  he  was  ever  weighing  the  chances 
of  escape.  The  men  who  had  ridden  the  horses  beside 
the  wagons  sat  on  two  knolls  commanding  the  road 
where  the  men  worked,  and  there  were  six  drivers 
beside,  all  heavily  armed.  No!  There  was  no  chance, 
he  told  himself,  over  and  over  again. 

But  the  very  next  day,  after  he  had  decided  that 
there  was  no  chance  to  escape,  he  thought  he  saw  a 
chance. 

9 


THE  DRAG-NET 

They  were  working  on  the  east  side  of  a  steep  hill, 
making  a  road  over  ground  that  had  lain  untouched  for 
years.  There  was  a  clump  of  eucalyptus  trees  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill, — great,  gaunt  things,  towering  sky- 
ward to  an  immense  height,  with  the  bark  hanging  in 
strips  from  their  trunks,  but  with  a  beautiful  wealth  of 
leaf  above.  The  hill  was  covered  with  the  dead  stalks 
of  mustard  standing  five  feet  high  or  more,  and  on  the 
east,  where  they  were  building  the  road,  there  was  much 
debris  of  bark  and  stalks  and  leaf  blown  there  by  the 
wind  that  comes  from  the  west  most  of  the  year. 

As  the  boy  worked  about  the  base  of  a  rock,  removing 
the  dead  refuse  of  the  hill,  preparatory  to  digging  the 
earth  away,  his  shovel  almost  slipped  from  his  hand  into 
a  deep  crevasse  under  the  edge  of  the  rock. 

Here  was  a  hole.  He  looked  about  him  cautiously, 
straightening,  as  if  for  a  moment's  rest.  No  one  had 
observed.  He  was  the  last  but  one  in  the  line.  A  swarthy 
Mexican  was  next,  working  away,  stolidly.  It  lacked 
a  few  minutes  of  three  o'clock,  the  time  to  stop.  Al- 
ready the  drivers  were  hitching  the  horses  to  the 
wagons. 

He  stooped  and  pushed  the  shovel  into  the  hole.  It 
touched  the  bottom.  He  withdrew  it  and  easily  en- 
larged the  opening,  furtively  pulling  the  pile  of  weeds 
and  bark  nearer  the  edge. 

Here  was  a  grave  to  swallow  him,  and  something  to 
cover  it  with,  if  only  there  could  be  one  moment  free 
from  observation. 

10 


THE  BOY 

His  nerves  were  tense,  there  was  no  time  for  considera- 
tion. It  must  be  at  the  moment  of  breaking  up,  if  at  all, 
for  only  as  the  men  drew  up  together  and  surged  up  the 
road  towards  the  wagons  was  there  a  chance  of  his 
absence  being  unnoticed  for  a  few  moments. 

The  signal  for  stopping  work  was  given,  by  the  cap- 
tain of  the  gang,  and  the  diggers  straightened  up,  the 
boy  with  them;  then  they  started  towards  the  wagons. 
The  boy  stood  still.  The  Mexican  was  observing  his  face, 
and  read  the  sign.  The  boy  was  desperate. 

"  Go  ahead  for  God's  sake!"  he  whispered. 

"They  shoot,"  the  man  returned,  warningly,  hurry- 
ing past  him. 

The  moment  had  come.  He  was  at  the  edge  of  the 
crevasse,  the  grave  that  no  one  knew  about  but  himself. 
One  fearful  glance  at  the  guards,  and  the  earth  had 
swallowed  him  up,  and  he  had  pulled  the  pile  of  dead 
mustard  stalks  and  bark  over  that  part  of  the  opening 
not  covered  by  the  rock.  There  was  no  immediate 
outcry. 

The  wagons  were  hastily  filled,  and  then  at  last, 
Cummings — No.  56  was  missed. 

"Quick,  guards,  ride  around  the  hill  that  way!  He 
can't  escape!"  called  one  of  the  men  on  horseback,  and 
the  boy,  crouching  fearfully  in  the  shallow  hole,  heard 
the  horses'  hoofs  beat  past  him,  over  the  road  where  he 
had  been  digging. 

There  were  guards  enough  to  divide,  and  every  one 
had  his  revolver  in  his  hand.  Every  bush  was  beaten, 

11 


THE  DRAG-NET 

every  stump  examined,  and  an  old  shed  below  the  hill 
explored,  to  no  purpose. 

"  Hell !  it's  the  cleanest  getaway  I  ever  saw!"  the  guard 
was  saying  to  one  as  he  rode  back  past  the  boy's  hiding 
place.  "Damn  it!  I  saw  the  fellow  shoveling  just 
about  here  not  five  minutes  ago." 

Then  he  called  out,  "Say,  Thompson  and  Sanchez, 
you  patrol  the  hill  until  I  can  telephone  for  help.  Keep 
a  sharp  lookout,  and  fire  if  you  have  to." 

Then  the  wagons  started  back  with  their  loads  of 
criminals — some  of  that  portion  of  the  world's  criminals 
too  dull  and  stupid  to  commit  aught  but  dull  and  stupid 
crimes.  The  petty  thief,  the  drunkard,  the  vagrant, — 
workers  of  evil  in  an  illiterate,  lazy  and  irresponsible 
way,  and  the  homeless  wanderer  who  would  have  a 
home  if  he  could,  and  the  workless  unfortunate  who 
would  jump  at  the  chance  to  work  if  he  could  get  it, — 
there  labored  on  the  city's  suburban  streets.  That 
portion  of  the  world's  criminals  who  commit  the  bril- 
liant, dazzling,  high-finance  crimes, — the  ball  and 
chain  are  not  for  them.  That  disgrace  is  reserved  for 
those  whose  ignorance  is  so  great  and  whose  crimes  are 
so  small  as  to  be  vulgar  and  contemptible. 

The  patrol  on  the  hill  was  relieved  by  others.  They 
discussed  their  plan  within  his  hearing,  and  so  he  knew 
just  what  to  do.  It  was  past  midnight  when  he  crept 
out  of  his  hospitable  grave,  slunk  down  into  the  valley, 
and  started  in  the  direction  of  St.  Pius. 


12 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 

HE  had  sat  an  hour  in  the  little  garden  at  the  back 
of  the  cottage  rather  than  startle  his  mother  by  knock- 
ing before  she  was  astir,  but  now  it  was  daylight  and  six 
o'clock.  The  whistles  of  the  few  factories  were  blow- 
ing, and  he  heard  her  moving  about  within.  The 
dream  was  coming  true. 

He  closed  his  eyes  to  realize  it  for  a  moment.  The 
past  weeks  were  a  horror  that  were  never  to  recur. 
Only  one  man  could  connect  Jake  Cummings  with  Joe 
Caldwell,  and  he  had  promised  silence.  There  was  no 
reason  to  believe  he  would  not  keep  his  word.  The 
boy  was  too  young  and  ignorant  to  know  that  the  guilt 
of  treachery  is  rewarded  by  those  in  whose  power  these 
morally  deficient  humans  are. 

"Add  one  more  crime  to  those  you  have  already 
committed,  aye,  even  a  greater  one, — the  betrayal  of  your 
friends,  and  you  shall  go  scot  free!"  say  these  guardians 
of  the  sinsick,  and  so  they  are  egged  on  by  their  own 
damnable  immunity. 

The  poor  boy  did  not  know  this,  but  lest  there  might 
be  a  chance  of  running  up  against  some  one  he  had  seen 
in  the  jail,  he  would  persuade  his  mother  to  sell  the  little 
place  and  they  would  go  up  North. 

13 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  walked  tremblingly  up  to  the  kitchen  door  and 
tapped. 

She  came  and  opened  it  with  the  usual  gentle  look 
upon  her  worn  face. 

He  tried  to  smile  as  he  held  out  his  arms,  but  at  her 
welcoming  cry  the  tears  rained  from  his  eyes. 

"Joe,  my  boy,  my  boy,  my  boy!  O,  thank  God, 
you've  come  back  to  me!  O,  thank  God,  thank  God!" 

Her  grey  head  was  upon  his  breast  and  he  pressed  his 
cheek  against  it  and  murmured  loving  words  inarticu- 
lately, as  she  poured  out  her  gladness  and  her  thankful- 
ness. 

It  seemed  they  would  never  cease  clinging  to  each 
other  and  smiling  and  weeping,  —  this  mother  and 
son.  But  at  last  his  needs  appealed  to  her.  She  looked 
him  over  sadly  and  questioningly,  and  so  explanations 
were  begun. 

"  I  had  to  walk  the  last  forty  miles,  Mother,  for  my 
funds  gave  out  and  I  was  bound  to  get  back  to  you,  even 
if  I  did  have  to  come  like  a  hobo,"  he  said  affectionately. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,  dear,  at  all,"  she  answered  quickly. 
"There  are  the  clothes  you  left — I  saved  them — and 
your  room  is  all  ready.  I  kept  it  ready,  because  I  said  to 
myself, '  Joe  may  walk  in  at  any  moment,'  and  here  you 
are,  dear,  here  you  are!  O,  how  happy  I  am!  And 
you  won't  go  away  again,  dear  ?" 

"  Never  without  you,  Mother,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her 
wistful  look. 

"You  must  be  starved,"  she  exclaimed.     "Go  into 

14 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 

your  room  and  wash  up.  I'll  have  the  coffee  made  in  a 
minute,  and  then  we'll  have  breakfast  together  again, 
Joe.  To  think  of  it!  O,  how  good  God  is  to  me! 
There,  there,  go  to  your  room!" 

The  boy  pressed  her  to  him  once  again  and  hurried 
into  his  little  room.  The  bed  looked  inviting.  Every 
bone  in  his  body  ached,  and  his  eyes  were  heavy  with 
sleep,  but  that  breakfast  must  be  eaten  first, — that 
breakfast  with  his  mother. 

The  dream  had  come  true. 

As  he  washed  and  changed  his  clothes,  the  aroma  of 
the  coffee  and  fried  bacon  and  eggs  came  to  him;  and 
then,  when  he  came  out,  and  they  were  seated  at  the 
table,  when  she  tried  to  say  the  simple  grace,  but  could 
not  for  the  tears,  he  took  her  in  his  arms  once  more,  and 
said:  "Don't  try,  Mother,  God  knows  all  about  it. 
Just  pour  me  some  coffee,  quick,  for  I'm  so  ravenous, 
there's  a  dear!" 

She  laughed  then  and  filled  the  biggest  cup  the  house 
afforded  and  piled  his  plate  with  all  it  could  hold,  and 
could  scarcely  eat  a  morsel  herself  for  looking  at  him — 
her  boy,  come  back  to  her  voluntarily. 

"You  must  go  and  get  a  shave.     Old  Peter  still" — 

"No,  Mother;  listen,"  he  interrupted  hastily.  "I'm 
dead  tired  and  I  don't  want  people  to  know  that  I  got 
back  just  yet.  I  must  get  some  sleep.  Don't  say  a 
word  to  any  one,  but  just  let  me  get  rested  up.  I  feel 
as  if  I  could  sleep  forever.  I've  had  such  headaches 
too." 

15 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Then  seeing  her  troubled  look,  he  laughed. 

"  I'll  get  better  now  with  such  a  nurse  and  such  coffee; 
and  to-morrow  I'll  pick  the  nasturtium  seeds  for  you, 
just  as  I  used  to  do. " 

"You  dear  boy,  you  remembered  that!  Well  I'll  put 
fresh  sheets  on  the  bed  right  away  and  you  shall  sleep 
until  to-morrow  morning  if  you  want  to,"  she  returned 
happily,  and  then  she  added  softly,  "  You  are  the  only 
man  of  the  house  now.  Father  died  last  winter." 

"I  know,  Mother,  I  met  a  man  who  told  me  on  my 
way  home.  I'm  sorry.  You  shall  tell  me  all  about  it 
some  day  when  I've  rested."  Then  he  drank  another 
cup  of  coffee  whitened  with  cream,  thinking  of  the  bitter 
stuff  they  had  doled  out  at  the  jail,  in  rusty  tin  cups, 
with  neither  sugar  nor  milk, — so  vile  that  only  the 
direst  need  could  force  it  down. 

All  day  he  slept,  she  keeping  watch,  tiptoeing  about 
the  house,  looking  in  upon  him  noiselessly  because  she 
must  feast  her  eyes  upon  his  beloved  features. 

At  night  he  awoke  refreshed  but  still  languid.  She 
sat  at  his  bedside  and  stroked  his  face,  and  he  kissed 
her  toil-worn  hands  and  held  them  upon  his  breast. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  old  clothes,  Mother  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  burned  them  up  on  the  rubbish  pile  at  the  end  of 
the  lot,"  she  answered,  laughing,  "I  wanted  them  out 
of  my  sight." 

"So  do  I,  so  do  I!"  he  returned.  Now  I'll  take  my 
supper  and  then  I'll  go  to  sleep  again." 

16 


The  next  morning  he  was  up  early  and  had  the  fire 
going  and  the  kettle  boiling  when  she  came  from  her 
room.  He  waited  on  her  then,  helping  her  with  the 
breakfast.  This  time,  having  herself  in  hand,  she 
asked  the  blessing  softly  and  in  order. 

He  was  quite  a  gourmandizer  this  morning.  "Food 
never  tasted  so  good  to  me  in  my  life,"  he  exclaimed, 
"unless  it  was  yesterday  morning  when  I  got  here." 

"Joe,  dear,  have  you  ever  had  to  go  hungry?"  she 
asked  wistfully. 

"Lots  of  times,  Mother,  but  I  never  stole,"  he 
answered,  looking  squarely  at  her. 

"Ah  no,  of  course  my  boy  could  never  do  that,"  she 
cried,  falteringly,  leaving  her  seat  and  pressing  his  head 
upon  her  breast. 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  thus  they  em- 
braced for  a  sacred  minute. 

The  next  moment  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
two  policemen  quickly  entered.  Morello  was  one. 
It  was  he  who  spoke. 

"You  are  our  prisoner,  Cummings  or  Caldwell,  so 
come  along." 

The  boy  sprang  up,  the  jail  with  all  its  horrors,  with 
more  time  and  punishment  for  his  escape,  looming 
before  him;  and  this  man  was  the  cause  of  all  his 
trouble.  The  bitter  hatred  he  had  for  him  might  have 
lessened  in  time  if  he  had  been  left  alone,  but  now  like  a 
fire  with  freshly  heaped  fuel  upon  it,  it  flared  up  into 
a  terrific  force.  Never  again  should  that  man  get  him 

17 


THE  DRAG-NET 

into  his  power,  or  that  yawning  hell  close  its  door  upon 
him. 

He  did  not  look  around  but  he  knew  that  there,  upon 
the  wall  back  of  his  chair,  was  the  old  holster  possibly 
containing  still  his  father's  revolver.  He  backed 
toward  it,  and  in  another  instant  a  shot  rang  out,  and 
Morello's  companion  dropped.  His  unsteady  hand  had 
swerved.  Before  he  could  raise  his  hand  again,  he 
fell  with  a  bullet  through  his  own  breast,  and  a  piercing 
shriek  filled  all  the  little  house  with  woe.  The  mother 
threw  herself  convulsively  across  his  body.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  lay  moaning  and  then  relaxed  and  lay  quite 
still,  while  his  blood  soaked  into  her  clothing,  and 
Morello  stood  the  only  living  one  in  that  little  kitchen. 

He  looked  at  them,  the  three  lying  there,  and  gasped, 
dropping  his  smoking  weapon  as  if  it  were  a  coal  of 
fire. 

"  God !"  he  groaned,  pressing  his  hand  in  a  dazed  way 
over  his  eyes.  "  God,  what  have  I  done!" 

His  limbs  grew  weak  and  he  staggered  to  a  nearby 
chair,  but  he  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  the  still  forms 
on  the  floor,  and  the  only  word  that  would  come  was 
"God!" 

He  must  at  least  lift  the  woman  and  place  her  on  the 
couch,  for  she  might  only  have  fainted,  but  her  clutch 
about  the  boy  was  not  to  be  loosened ;  and  there  was  no 
pulse. 

As  he  arose  great  beads  of  sweat  ran  down  his  livid 
face. 

18 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 

He  looked  around.  The  coffee  pot  was  steaming 
upon  the  stove,  and  upon  the  little  table  the  homely 
breakfast  was  spread.  When  they  had  entered  the 
boy's  arm  had  been  about  the  mother's  waist,  he  remem- 
bered ;  and  then  the  scene  in  the  arroyo  seco  came  vividly 
to  him,  with  the  too  late  conviction  that  there  had  been 
nothing  at  all  to  arrest  him  for  in  the  first  place,  ab- 
solutely nothing  at  all. 

He  crept  silently  out  to  the  little  front  porch  where 
the  sun  streamed  in  and  a  mocking-bird  poured  forth 
a  flood  of  sweet  notes. 

He  shuddered  as  he  listened,  and  could  only  whisper 
falteringly,  over  and  over  again.  "God!  what  have  I 
done !  What  have  I  done !" 

An  hour  passed  by,  and  still  he  sat  as  though  in  a 
trance,  seeing  pictures  of  life  and  death,  weighing 
reason  and  unreason,  and  realizing  the  appalling 
tragedy  enacted  within.  His  heart  swelled  almost  to 
bursting,  and  the  scales  fell  from  his  eyes  in  that  hour. 


19 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  BISHOP 

"I'M  very  busy,  Jerry,  ask  the  man  if  some  other 
time  won't  do  just  as  well." 

The  old  servant  retired  but  returned  in  a  moment. 
"He  says,  Bishop,  that  he  doesn't  suppose  he  will  come 
again  if  you  won't  see  him  now.  He  seems  troubled- 
like,  he  does. " 

"  Bring  him  up  then,  Jerry. "  The  Bishop  was  getting 
old.  He  sighed.  The  diocese  was  large.  It  would  be 
so  good  to  have  a  little  time  to  one's  self  now  and  then. 

The  man  entered.  Tall,  pale,  with  great  troubled 
blue  eyes,  and  black  hair  pushed  away  from  a  splendid 
forehead,  he  appealed  immediately  to  the  aesthetic 
sense. 

"Be  seated, "  said  the  Bishop  pleasantly,  "and  tell  me 
what  is  upon  your  mind,  if  that  is  what  you  have  come 
for." 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  have  come  for.  I'm  very  sorry 
to  take  your  time,  but  there  seemed  no  one  else.  I  had 
to  talk  to  some  one  of  large  experience  and  of  undoubted 
wisdom  and  integrity." 

The  Bishop  bowed.  "I'm  glad  if  I  can  give  you 
help,"  he  said  with  unaffected  sincerity.  "  Now  what  is 
troubling  you  ?" 

20 


THE  BISHOP 

The  young  man  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"If  you  would  question  me — I  don't  know  where  to 
begin.  I — I  am  a  murderer!" 

The  Bishop  had  dealt  with  many  sorts  of  people, 
and  was  a  man  of  this  world  as  well  as  the  next ;  but  as 
this  man's  eyes,  so  full  of  somber  lights,  were  turned 
penetratingly  upon  him  his  pulse  quickened  a  little,  and 
he  wondered  if  he  were  altogether  sane. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,"  the  man  continued,  answer- 
ing the  Bishop's  half  concealed  glance.  "I'm  not  a 
madman — not  yet;  I'm  only  so  full  of  horror  of  this 
thing  that  some  devilish  fate  has  thrust  upon  me,  that  I 
must  unburden  myself,  and  have  advice — the  opinion 
of  some  strong,  straightforward  mind." 

"And  you  come  to  me ?" 

"Yes.  I  know  nothing  of  priests  or  ministers,  but  I 
know  that  you  have  the  respect  and  confidence  of  all  the 
town,  and  won't  talk  cant." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Prentiss  Morello." 

"Half  Spanish?" 

"  Half  Spanish-American  and  half  American.  Pren- 
tiss  was  my  mother's  name;  father  of  Spanish  descent." 

"What  crime  have  you  committed  ?" 

"Crime?  Crimes!  Crimes!"  he  insisted.  "I'll  tell 
you  in  as  few  words  as  possible  the  gulf  that  has  sud- 
denly yawned  between  me  and  innocent  men !" 

Then  he  rapidly  related  the  events  of  the  last  week, 
sparing  no  detail. 

21 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  Horrible!"  exclaimed  the  Bishop  when  he  had  done. 

The  man's  face  lighted.  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say 
that !  At  the  station,  when  I  went  to  give  up  the  badge 
and  resign,  they  insisted  that  I  had  only  done  my  duty. 
God!  My  duty!  My  duty!" 

"  But  why  did  you  take  up  that  business,  a  man  like 
you  ?"  asked  the  Bishop. 

"There  seemed  nothing  else  at  the  moment,  and  I 
wanted  to  see  something  of  the  underworld.  I  had  to 
wait  but  six  months  until  I  came  into  my  inheritance. 
I  had  been  in  the  service  but  three  months." 

"  Then  it  was  not  for  the  salary  ?" 

"  No — that  cut  no  figure  with  me.  I  wanted  to  know 
life,  and  it  was  to  see  the  submerged  part  of  humanity 
and  to  find  out  what  they  are  really  like." 

"Then  you  have  attained  your  object,"  said  the 
Bishop. 

The  man  sprang  up  and  paced  the  room.  "  That  is 
cold-blooded!"  he  said.  "But  yes,  partly.  The  gates 
of  hell  have  been  thrown  open  and  I've  not  only  looked 
through,  but  I've  gone  through.  It's  a  tremendous 
reality,  but  it  is  not  the  hell  you  preachers  preach!" 

"I  suppose  you  mean  the  city  jail,"  returned  the 
Bishop,  "  I've  read  in  the  papers  about  it,  but  I've  never 
examined  it." 

"Of  course  you've  never  examined  it,"  the  man 
interrupted,  pausing  before  the  Bishop,  with  blazing 
eyes.  "In  the  three  months  that  I  helped  to  use  the 
drag-net  to  overcrowd  that  hell-hole,  I've  never  seen 

22 


THE  BISHOP 

a  clergyman  there — only  a  few  women  carrying  flowers, 
and  reading  the  Bible.  Jove!  It's  enough  to  make  the 
devil  roar!"  He  struck  a  clenched  fist  into  the  other 
palm  and  strode  on  again. 

The  Bishop  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  the  man  with 
great  interest.  It  was  new  to  be  arraigned  like  that. 

Morello  was  clearly  under  the  influence  of  a  powerful 
conviction,  and  the  Bishop  wanted  to  get  into  his  mind, 
— he  was  a  student  of  men. 

"  When  I  think  of  you  smug,  well-fed,  well-clad,  self- 
satisfied  clergymen  preaching  of  hell  for  sinners  after 
death,  while  that  festering,  blistering,  crime-producing 
pile  exists  right  under  your  nose  without  your  lifting  a 
finger  to  change  it,  I  wonder  on  what  code  of  ethics  the 
world  is  run  anyway!  If  there  is  the  hell  you  preach, 
then  this  jail  and  all  jails  like  this  are  feeders  for  it!" 

"The  problem  of  the  criminal" — began  the  Bishop  in 
an  even  voice. 

"Faugh!  There  is  no  problem  of  the  criminal! 
Where  is  the  brotherhood  of  man  you  preach  ?  Where 
is  the  doing  unto  others  as  you  would  be  done  by,  while 
the  innocent  and  the  guilty,  the  black  and  the  white,  the 
young  and  the  old  are  forced  to  breathe  the  reek  of  each 
other's  bodies  in  the  vilest,  most  indecent  contact;  and 
to  contract  each  other's  diseases,  tendencies  and  vicious 
knowledge  ?" 

"I'm  sure  there  is  much  truth  in  what  you  say, 
but"— 

"Much   truth?     It's    all   truth.— I   could    tell    you 

23 


THE  DRAG-NET 

things," — he  had  caught  sight  of  the  picture,  the  Mater 
Purissima,  upon  the  wall,  and  he  stopped  before  it  with 
a  great  indrawing  of  the  breath,  then  broke  out  again. 

"You  see  this  madonna,  Bishop — I've  seen  a  young 
girl  with  a  face  more  beautiful ;  a  far  more  innocent  face 
than  this  or  than  any  that  was  ever  painted,  dragged  to 
that  jail  and  housed  with  colored  women  so  low  that 
you  would  think  them  hardly  more  than  one  remove 
from  the  female  anthropoid  ape.  I've  seen  old,  grey- 
haired  women  and  men  thrown  in  there  and  kept  for 
days  and  weeks  who  were  as  innocent  as  you  yourself; 
arrested  on  the  mere  suspicion  of  some  irresponsible 
patrolman,  and  then,  when  they  suffered  the  loss  of 
business  and  the  pain  and  disgrace,  and  have  broken 
down  in  health  in  consequence,  turned  loose  without 
hope  of  redress.  I  know  of  one  case  where  a  man  was 
confined  for  seven  months  without  trial  and  then  turned 
loose,  and  today  he  does  not  know  why  he  was  arrested." 

"Horrible!"  again  said  the  Bishop. 

"I  think  I  shall  go  mad  thinking  of  it,"  returned 
Morello. 

"How  long  since  you  have  begun  thinking  of  it?" 
asked  the  clergyman  pertinently. 

"It  has  been  soaking  into  me  since  I  went  into  the 
service,  I  think;  but  it  never  assumed  definite  shape 
until  I  saw  those  three  lying  upon  that  little  kitchen 
floor;  and  my  soul  cried  out  to  me  asking  what  it  was 
all  about,  and  why  should  the  poor  boy  have  been  jailed 
in  the  first  place." 

24 


THE  BISHOP 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Bishop,  bowing  his  head. 

"  And  then  as  I  looked  at  them  something  broke  loose 
within  my — my  brain — my  understanding,  and  other 
pictures  came  trooping  on  like  a  drama  of  horrors,  and 
the  whole  fabric  of  our  penal  institutions,  that  punish 
only,  and  increase  evil,  but  never  remedy  it,  stood  bare 
to  me." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  as  he  strode  up  and 
down  once  more,  then  like  a  torrent  his  words  poured 
forth  again. 

"And  half  a  block  away  there  are  churches  where 
they  talk  about  the  brotherhood  of  man."  He  laughed 
harshly.  "  I  tell  you,  Bishop,  it's  the  selfishness  of  man, 
the  love  of  ease  and  pleasure  and  show  that  these  namby- 
pamby  church  people  worship,  and  not  real  brother- 
hood. For  if  that  were  true  these  things  that  I  have 
told  you  could  not  go  on  for  a  day, — not  for  one  day!" 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  Bishop,  gently,  as  the  other  paused. 
"  Go  on,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you." 

"  Go  on  ?  O  no,  no  it's  too  lengthy.  We  should  con- 
sume the  night,  and  I  came  to  seek  advice  of  you.  I  have 
a  weight  upon  my  shoulders  that  I  don't  know  how  to 
bear,  I  have  a  knowledge  of  this  festering  sore  that  will 
hurt  me  to  my  death,  and  I  have  Cain's  brand  upon  me." 

The  Bishop  straightened  and  assumed  an  authorita- 
tive manner. 

"Please  sit  down  if  you  have  finished,  and  let  me 
have  my  turn  now.  I've  no  doubt  that  what  you  say 

25 


THE  DRAG-NET 

is  true,  and  I'll  not  attempt  to  excuse  it,  for  there  is  no 
excuse.  So  let  us  come  to  your  own  immediate  case. 
Have  you  ever  done  manual  labor  ?" 

"No.     I've  been  ornamental,  not  useful." 

"Then  I  advise  you  to  be  useful — a  laborer.  You 
are  educated  ?" 

"Yale.     Class  of '07." 

"Then  I  advise  you  to  leave  books  and  study  old 
mother  earth  for  awhile.  You  are  wealthy  ?" 

"  In  three  months  I  shall  have  a  moderate  fortune." 

"  Then  let  it  lie,  and  earn  your  bread  by  toil.  Have 
you  a  family  ?" 

"  My  mother  and  sister  are  in  Europe  for  a  year.  If 
they  had  been  here  I  should  have  never  have  entered 
the  service." 

Then  the  Bishop  asked,  slowly,  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eye:  "  Are  you  sorry  you  entered  the  service?" 

Morello  started,  beginning  to  utter  some  words 
inarticulately. 

"  Can  you  say  to  me,"  repeated  the  Bishop,  "  honestly, 
that  you  are  sorry  you  entered  the  service  ?  Think!" 

"Then  I  should  never  have  known — "  Morello  began. 

"That  is  it,"  said  the  Bishop.  "You  would  never 
have  known  of  these  things  any  more  than  the  'namby- 
pamby  church-goer'  knows  of  them.  You,  even,  some 
Sunday  might  have  been  one  of  them  yourself,  and  that 
hell  would  have  remained  a  sealed  book  to  you,  as  it  is 
to  them." 

26 


THE  BISHOP 

Morello  got  up  again  and  strode  about  restlessly. 
"But  the  brand  of  Cain, — the  brand  of  Cain,"  he 
groaned,  shaking  his  right  arm  as  if  to  shake  it  from  his 
body. 

The  Bishop  arose  and  stood  with  great  dignity  at  his 
chair.  "  My  son,  even  the  brand  of  Cain  may  have  its 
use.  See  that  it  works  its  regeneration."  Then  chang- 
ing his  tone  to  one  of  businesslike  directness,  he  said : 

"  I  have  a  place  in  the  country.  I  have  long  wished 
to  add  a  garden.  You  can  take  possession  if  you  will 
at  two  dollars  a  day,  no  more.  This  will  provide  you 
subsistence.  I  would  advise  you  to  go  into  a  sort  of 
retreat — that  is,  to  hold  no  intercourse  with  any  one. 
Work  hard,  study  the  earth,  and  keep  your  mind 
receptive  to  divine  illumination — it  comes,  sometimes, 
even  to  those  with  the  brand  of  Cain  upon  them."  He 
held  out  his  hand,  which  Morello  grasped. 

"  Give  me  the  address  and  I  will  go  tomorrow  morn- 
ing," he  answered  huskily. 

The  Bishop  wrote  the  address  upon  a  card,  and  went 
with  him  to  the  door. 


27 


CHAPTER  IV 


MORELLO  worked  in  the  Bishop's  garden  for  eight 
months.  The  careless  man  of  twenty-five  had  become 
a  thin,  scholarly,  gentle-voiced  student,  looking  fully 
thirty  years  of  age.  A  passing  traveler  might  win  a 
quiet  good  morning  or  good  evening  from  him,  but 
rarely  more.  The  Bishop  loved  to  spend  a  day  or  two 
frequently  in  the  country,  for  he  was  becoming  old,  and 
needed  the  quiet.  Also  his  gardener  was  a  man  of  great 
interest  to  him.  He  had  found  him  an  independent 
thinker  and  perfectly  unafraid  of  the  world's  opinion. 

One  day  the  Bishop  needed  an  amanuensis,  even  in 
the  country,  so  he  called  his  gardener. 

*'  Morello,  I  want  some  letters  written.  Can  you  do 
it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  think  so,  Bishop,"  the  young  man  replied. 

After  that  the  Bishop  employed  him  much  in  that 
capacity,  and  so  well  did  they  suit  each  other  that  the 
gardening  was  turned  over  to  other  hands  and  he  became 
the  Bishop's  secretary.  For  six  months  more  there  was 
no  change  in  this  relationship.  But  Morello  had  been 
preparing  for  a  change.  His  outlook  had  become 
broader  and  clearer.  Lines  were  converging  in  his  life, 
he  felt.  The  silence  imposed  upon  him  by  the  Bishop 

28 


THE  HAUNTING  FACE 

had  aided  his  introspection;  the  hard  work  had  made 
his  body  so  weary  that  sleep  came  naturally;  vitality 
came  from  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun,  and  wisdom  looked 
at  him  from  earth  and  leaf  and  flower. 

He  had  been  preparing  a  home  for  himself  out  on  one 
of  the  hills  north  of  the  city.  He  had  purchased  a 
roomy  bungalow  with  an  acre  of  ground  in  which  there 
grew  great  pepper  trees,  and  roses  trailed  over  a  long 
pergola. 

"Are  you  going  to  marry,  boy?"  asked  the  Bishop 
kindly,  when  this  purchase  was  made. 

"Marry!"  Morello  answered,  "No!  Never.  To 
whom  could  I  offer  this  hand — this  murderer's  hand  ?" 

"I  thought  you  had  outworn  that  morbidity,"  re- 
urned  the  old  clergyman. 

"It's  not  morbidity,  it's  clear-sightedness,  Bishop," 
said  the  young  man.  "  I  see  and  know  what  I  am. " 

"Come  into  the  church,  boy;  come  into  the  church 
and  let  it  mother  you,"  the  clergyman  returned  in  a 
fatherly  tone. 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  spoken  of  that,  for  I  wanted  to 
explain,"  said  Morello  earnestly.  "  I  cannot  be  grateful 
enough  to  you,  who  steadied  my  mind,  when  it  needed 
it.  Your  strength  and  steadfastness  have  been  much 
to  me,  but  I  don't  need  the  organization — I  don't — " 

"It  would  strengthen  you  more  than  I  have  done, 
Morello.  There  is  a  mighty  power  in  vast  organiza- 
tion, and  to  get  into  the  stream  of  that  power  is  a  great 
help," 

29 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"It  would  be  help  from  the  outside,  and  now  that  I 
have  gotten  hold  of  myself,  I  must  fight  my  battle  single- 
handed,  Bishop.  The  organization  is  no  doubt  of 
immense  help  to  hosts  of  men;  but, — forgive  me  if  I 
seem  arrogant — I  feel  that  any  pale  or  enclosure  would 
only  impede  me.  All  men  must  be  my  brothers, 
irrespective  of  creed  or  race  or  state  of  virtue  or  vice." 
He  arose  then  and  began  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down 
as  was  his  wont  when  greatly  moved ;  stopping  now  and 
then  before  the  Bishop,  resting  in  his  easy  chair,  to 
emphasize  some  idea. 

"Besides,  we  don't  think  just  alike.  I  doubt  if  you 
would  let  me  come  within  your  '  pale '  if  you  knew  the 
alien  conclusions  I  have  been  approaching,  the  heretical 
vistas  that  are  constantly  opening  up  to  me !" 

"My  advice  now,  boy,  is  to  forget  your  past  and 
settle  down,"  responded  the  Bishop  with  great  kind- 
ness. "If  you  are  not  careful  you  will  get  into  a  mental 
impasse  and  then  at  the  top  of  the  wall  you  are  sure  to 
find  Atheism  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand.  It's 
always  the  way,  boy,  always  the  way.  Choose  the  safe 
path!" 

"Forget  the  past!"  exclaimed  Morello.  "What  is 
my  past?  When  did  it  begin?  That — something, 
which  pushed  me,  a  thoughtless  youth,  into  that  gulf 
of  iniquity — that  fate,  destiny,  nemesis,  whatever  you 
like  to  call  it,  that  placed  the  drag-net  within  my  hand, 
and  urged  me  on  to  the  bitter  end,  had  no  part  in  my 
present  past.  It  has  held  over  from  a  remote  past. 

30 


THE  HAUNTING  FACE 

It  must  have,  for  there  was  no  leading  up  to  it.  It  had 
been  waiting,  full-fledged,  for  me — for  the  ripe  time." 

"Ah!"  returned  the  Bishop  sadly,  "you  have  the 
reincarnation  bee  in  your  bonnet." 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  have;  but  I  do  know  that  those 
three  months  were  entirely  unrelated  to  my  present 
past.  There  was  no  cause  in  the  past  of  this  life  to 
merge  into  that  effect.  But  it  shall  go  no  farther. 
Whatever  debt  I  have  to  pay,  it  shall  be  wiped  out  now — 
now."  His  voice  thrilled  with  emotion. 

"  I  thought  you  had  yourself  better  in  hand,  Morello, 
after  all  these  months  with  me,"  replied  the  Bishop; 
then  added, "I  haven't  intruded  upon  you,  you  know, 
but  I  hoped  you  would  join  us.  Then  when  you  bought 
the  house  I  felt  sure  you  were  thinking  of  marrying. " 

Morello  noticed  the  disappointment  in  the  old  man's 
voice,  and  it  pained  him. 

"Will  you  come  with  me  out  to  the  bungalow  some 
day  ?  It's  just  what  I  wanted,  "he  said,  enthusiastically. 
"  When  I  leave  you  I  could  not  go  to  a  public  place  to 
live — my  taste  for  that  is  gone,  wholly  gone !" 

"  When  you  leave  me,  Morello  ?" 

"Yes,  Bishop,  good  friend,  father,  when  I  leave  you. 
It  may  not  be  for  some  time  yet,  but  it  must  come  and 
it  may  come  any  day." 

"  I'm  sorry  lad,  I'm  sorry.  We  suited  each  other  to  a 
nicety  and  I'm  afraid  I'm  getting  crotchety  as  my  years 
increase,"  replied  the  Bishop. 

"I  want  you  to  come  out  with  me  to  the  bungalow," 

31 


THE  DRAG-NET 

said  Morello  again.  "It's  on  one  of  the  highest  hills, 
and  you  can  see  all  down  the  valley,  and  on  clear  days 
the  islands  in  the  sea.  Then,  on  the  north,  the  Sierras. 
It's  a  heavenly  spot,  Bishop,  just  the  sort  for  an  old 
monk  like  me,"  he  said,  his  face  transformed  with  the 
unusual  smile. 

"An  old  monk  like  you,  lad !  You'll  never  be  an  old 
monk,  nor  should  I  wish  you  to  be.  You  are  not  made 
of  the  stuff  monks  are  made  of.  One  of  these  days 
you'll  take  a  sweet  girl  to  that  bungalow.  I  predict  it 
confidently.  Have  you  never  been  in  love,  boy  ?" 

"  No, — never  in  love, "  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  But  a 
face  haunts  me,  Bishop, — the  face  I  told  you  of  on  the 
night  I  first  saw  you.  Do  you  remember  how  the  Mater 
Purissima  hanging  on  your  wall  reminded  me,  and  I  told 
you  I  had  seen  a  girl  dragged  to  prison  with  a  face  far 
more  beautiful  than  that  ?  It  was  true.  I  have  never 
forgotten  that  face  nor  the  depth  of  woe  in  it.  It  was  a 
madonna  face,  a  flower  face,  a  face  that  should  have 
expressed  heaven,  yet  she  was  taken  from  one  of  the 
fashionable  houses  of  vice,  and  her  lover  appeared  as 
soon  as  he  heard  of  it,  paid  her  fine,  and  took  her  away. 
I  have  often  wondered  what  became  of  her.  The  man 
went  scot-free.  The  drag-net,  you  know,  is  only  out 
after  the  poor  and  helpless,  the  irresponsible,  the  weak. 
Those  who  commit  colossal  crimes  are  never  caught  in 
it." 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  true,  Morello,  and  you  cannot  change 
it;  but  put  that  face  out  of  your  mind  as  soon  as  possible. 

32 


THE  HAUNTING  FACE 

You  have  had  enough  of  tragedy.  Some  day  you  will 
see  a  healthy,  good-looking  girl,  fit  to  be  the  mother  of 
your  children,  and  you  will  marry  her,  or, — or,  I  shall 
be  disappointed  in  you. " 

Morello  looked  at  the  aged  Bishop,  realizing  the  vast 
difference  in  their  ideals,  but  returned  no  reply. 

It  was  a  week  after  this  conversation,  when  one  night 
the  Bishop  was  disturbed.  Always  a  light  sleeper,  of 
late,  even  when  quiet  reigned,  he  could  not  lose  himself 
in  slumber  at  all.  There  was  a  stealthy  step  overhead 
in  Morello 's  room,  keeping  up  an  irregular  tramp,  and 
finally  the  old  man  was  out  of  all  patience.  He  swung 
himself  out  of  bed  and  wrapped  a  bath-robe  about  him, 
pushed  his  feet  into  some  slippers,  and  making  his  way 
upstairs,  he  knocked  at  the  door. 

Morello  opened  it.  His  face  was  ghastly  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  My  dear  boy,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  There's 
no  sleeping  for  your  tramping  about!"  then,  noticing 
the  confusion  of  the  room,  "Eh?  What's  all  this, 
what's  all  this  ?" 

"  I'm  sorry  if  I  have  disturbed  you,  sir,  but  I  must  go, 
I  must  go  tonight.  " 

"Tonight?  It's  twelve  o'clock,  and  what  the  devil 
has  happened?"  he  asked  testily.  "You  said  nothing 
about  it  before  we  went  to  bed." 

"  I  did  not  know  then.  I  saw  a  notice  in  the  paper, 
after  I  came  to  my  room,  that  decided  me,"  said  the 
young  man  earnestly. 

33 


THE  DRAG-NET 

*'  What  notice  ?  Gad !  You  are  serving  short  notice 
on  me,"  replied  the  old  clergyman. 

"Pray  pardon  me,  Bishop.  I  did  not  know — it  has 
come  upon  me  so  suddenly.  I  may  be  back." 

"Jove!  You  may  be  back!  That's  cool.  Now 
what  is  it  all  about,  boy  ?"  The  Bishop  seated  himself, 
and  Morello  pulled  a  blanket  off  the  bed  and  wrapped 
him  in  it.  How  like  a  son  he  was!  The  old  man's 
heart  warmed  toward  him. 

"You  remember  the  girl  I  told  you  of  with  the 
madonna  face  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  just  read  of  a  brilliant  wedding  that  is  to  take 
place  tomorrow  noon  at  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  The 
bridegroom  is  the  one  responsible  for  what  she  was." 

"Well?" 

"I  must  find  out  what  has  become  of  that  girl, 
Bishop." 

"Nonsense,  boy,"  said  the  Bishop,  alarmed.  "What 
can  it  be  to  you  ?" 

"  Bishop,  it  seems  to  belong  to  me,  somehow.  It  is  a 
beginning !  I  knew  the  lines  in  my  life  were  converging. 
I  felt  events  approaching;  I  could  not  live  this  slumbrous 
life  for  long,  and  now  my  sinews  are  taut,  my  brain  is 
clear,  I  have  myself  in  hand,  and  am  ready  for  a  spring 
into  the  arena;  and  from  this  on,  it  is  war  to  the  knife 
against  the  drag-net,  and  the  whole  infernal  penal 
system.  Then  there  is  the  retribution — the  burning  up 
of  the  evil  desert  in  me;  so  that,  if  I  have  to  live  again, 

34 


THE  HAUNTING  FACE 

I  can  begin  with  a  clean  slate.  It  begins  tonight, 
Bishop  .'tonight!" 

"  Boy,  tomorrow  will  do  just  as  well.  Do  be  reason- 
able. You  have  become  such  a  staff  to  me." 

Morello  turned  to  the  old  man.  He  looked  very 
feeble.  A  flood  of  tenderness  seized  him,  and  he  did  a 
thing  he  had  never  done  before.  He  knelt  before  him. 

"  Your  holiness,  if  you  would  lay  your  hand  upon  my 
head  in  blessing,  and  ask  God  to  accept  of  my  life  for 
this  good  work,  I  should  be  deeply  grateful,"  he  said, 
earnestly. 

And  the  Bishop  laid  his  hand  upon  the  young  man's 
head  and  in  tremulous  voice  dedicated  him  to  the  cause 
of  truth  and  humanity. 

Morello  arose  and  his  eyes  were  shining  like  stars. 
"  You  have  buckled  on  my  sword,  Father,  I  shall  try  to  be 
worthy  of  it. "  he  said, "  Now  come,  let  me  help  you  down 
to  your  room. " 

At  the  Bishop's  door  they  paused. 

"That  girl,  boy,  that  girl!  What  are  you  going  to 
do  ?  I'm  afraid  to  trust  you  out  of  my  sight  with  your 
Quixotic  notions." 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do,  Father.  It  will 
be  whatever  I  am  led  to  do,  and,  surely,  after  that 
dedication,  whatever  I  am  led  to  do  will  be  right,"  he 
replied  steadfastly. 

"Yes,  but  you  are  so  quick  to  determine.  If  you 
would  only  take  time  to  think.  Remember  what  she 
is,  boy,"  said  the  Bishop. 

35 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  Whatever  she  may  be,  of  this  I  am  certain.  I  am 
not  worthy  to  so  much  as  touch  her  hand,"  replied 
Morello  quickly. 

The  old  Bishop  felt  rebuked.  Was  he  too  lenient 
with  the  sins  of  men  ? 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "you  will  have  your  way  in  spite  of 
me." 

"  No,  Father,  but  God  will  have  His  way  in  spite  of 
you.  Good  night." 


36 


THE  PRISONER 

"HALT?    Give  an  account  of  yourself!" 

The  man  addressed  stepped  out  of  the  shadow  into 
the  light,  and  looked  the  policeman  in  the  face. 

"  Jimminy !  Is  it  you,  Morello  ?"  exclaimed  the  latter, 
holding  out  his  hand  cordially. 

"Yes,  Fenleigh,  it  is  I, — out,  when  all  good  men 
should  be  in  bed.  And  you  are  just  the  man  I  wanted 
to  see,"  he  returned,  taking  the  proffered  hand. 

"  How  are  you,  Morello,  and  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

**  'Richard's  himself  again!'  Fenleigh,  and  you  can 
help  me  a  good  deal.  You  know  Fane  Redding,  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  going  to  be  married  tomorrow. " 

"That's  why  I  came  in  from  the  Bishop's  tonight. 
Do  you  know  anything  of  that  Miss  Brookfield  whose 
fine  he  paid  the  day  of  the  raid,  about  a  year  ago  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  She's  in  the  city  jail  now.  There's  an 
ugly  story  round,  Morello,  about  that  Redding!"  he  said 
in  a  confidential  tone.  Then  added,  "He's  just  about 
as  bad  as  they  make  'em,  I  guess!" 

Morello 's  hands  clenched  into  hard,  knotty  fists  as  he 
listened,  but  he  steadied  his  voice  as  he  said, 

"  It's  bribery,  of  course  ?" 

37 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  The  house  wasn't  raided,  but  she  was  brought  to  the 
jail."  The  man  went  on,  "Now,  whether  some  one 
has  her  fine  to  pay  when  Redding  has  gone  off  to  Europe 
with  his  bride,  or  whether  she  will  have  to  serve  her  time 
out,  I  don't  know;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  she's  safe 
until  he's  away." 

" I  see,"  said  Morello.  "The  drag-net  hasn't  caught 
him,  has  it?  The  poor  weak  sinner  who  is  penniless 
can't  escape,  but  the  gilded  devil  can  laugh  at  it,  Fen- 
leigh,  can't  he  ?" 

" That's  about  the  size  of  it,  Morello!" 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  on  the  force,  Fen- 
leigh?" 

"  I'd  have  been  off  long  ago,  but  I  can't  find  anything 
else  to  do,  and  I've  five  mouths  to  feed,"  said  the  man. 

"  I  may  be  able  to  help  you  soon,  Fenleigh.  I'll  bear 
you  in  mind.  Well,  I'm  off.  Good  night." 

"  Good  night.  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  something  else 
to  do,"  he  said. 

As  Morello  swung  down  the  street  his  plans  matured 
quickly.  He  went  to  a  hotel,  and  when  shown  to  his 
room,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed  without  undress- 
ing, and  stared  up  at  the  ceiling,  planning,  planning, 
until  morning. 

Keenly  sensitive  to  beauty  in  any  form,  especially  in 
the  human  form,  that  girl's  face  had  haunted  him:  the 
unutterable  misery  that  had  looked  from  her  great 
shadowy  eyes  had  awakened  in  him  a  vast  pity  for  her 
kind  even  when  he  had  first  seen  her,  and  he  had  looked 

38 


THE  PRISONER 

down  upon  her,  commiseratingly ;  but  still  there  had 
been  the  gulf  between  them,  he  above  and  she  below. 
But  this  past  year  of  self-examination  had  changed  all 
that.  There  was  still  the  gulf  between  them,  but  they 
had  changed  places,  some  way.  He  looked  up  to  her 
now,  poor  thing,  so  much  more  sinned  against  than 
sinning. 

He  remembered  her  dress.  It  had  been  black. 
There  had  been  no  gaudy  finery,  and  no  jewelry  upon 
her. 

When  daylight  came  it  found  him  with  but  one 
resolution — to  pay  the  girl's  fine,  and  uncover  the  faith- 
lessness of  Fane  Redding.  Then  she  must  be  put  into 
the  hands  of  friends  and  they  must  look  after  her. 
He  would  move  all  his  effects  from  the  Bishop's 
and  live  in  his  bungalow  henceforth.  He  had  learned 
the  value  of  one  step  at  a  time,  so  he  went  no  further. 

He  spent  the  morning  putting  his  house  in  order. 
The  furniture  was  already  in  the  house — great  heavy 
pieces  of  mission  furniture  and  soft  rugs  in  Oriental 
weaves.  There  were  but  the  lighter  embellishments  to 
put  in,  and  he  spent  a  busy  morning  at  it. 

Then,  when  it  was  near  the  noon  hour  he  went  to  the 
city  jail,  and  paid  the  girl's  fine,  and  she  was  brought 
down  to  him. 

She  had  been  a  week  in  that  place  of  horrors,  con- 
fined with  two  or  three  like  herself,  it  is  true,  but  with 
many  black  and  white  utterly  depraved  and  steeped  in 
crime.  Sanitation  was  not  considered  at  all  in  that  jail. 

39 


THE  DRAG-NET 

There  had  been  but  one  towel  for  all  of  them  to  use,  and 
not  choosing  to  use  that,  she  had  taken  one  of  her  white 
petticoats  and  turned  it  into  a  towel  by  day  and  a  pillow 
by  night.  She  utilized  one  of  the  combs  that  held  her 
hair  in  place,  and  so  kept  herself  neat.  But  the  filthy 
cots,  the  vermin,  and  the  horrible  diseases  that  seemed 
to  thrive  there,  had  made  her  nights  sleepless,  her  days 
inexpressibly  exhausting.  Redding  had  told  her  the 
day  before  she  had  been  seized  that  he  had  been  called 
away  on  business,  and  that  he  would  be  absent  about 
two  weeks.  So  she  was  sure  that  he  would  come  for 
her  as  soon  as  he  returned.  But  how  to  live  that  two 
weeks,  in  that  environment;  how  to  keep  her  body  from 
contamination — that  was  her  study.  At  night  she  wept 
and  prayed,  when  the  others  could  neither  see  nor  hear, 
but  still  she  bore  herself  with  what  courage  she  could, 
counting  the  days  until,  full  of  anger  at  those  who  had 
dared  molest  her,  Redding  should  come  to  her  aid. 
Once  before  she  had  been  brought  there,  but  had  only 
stayed  for  a  few  hours,  for  he  had  come  for  her  im- 
mediately. He  had  taken  her  away  after  that  that 
she  might  forget  it,  and  they  had  traveled  for  several 
months;  but  this  city  was  his  home,  and  they  had  had  to 
return.  She  had  been  fearful,  but  he  had  assured 
her  that  where  he  had  placed  her  there  was  nothing  to 
fear.  Then  this  had  happened,  and  he  was  away  and 
did  not  know. 

When  she  was  told  that  her  fine  had  been  paid,  that 
she  was  free,  and  that  some  one  was  waiting  for  her 

40 


THE  PRISONER 

below,  in  the  hall,  she  sank  upon  one  of  the  cots,  weak 
and  trembling,  so  great  was  her  relief.  She  had  ex- 
pected to  stay  at  least  a  week  longer;  but  in  a  moment 
she  had  gathered  her  things  together,  and  had  her  long 
black  cloak  and  hat  on,  and  was  ready.  She  had  the 
appearance  of  a  lady  who  had  been  visiting  the  inmates 
of  the  jail  as  she  followed  the  official  down  the  long  stairs 
to  the  corridor  below,  and  only  the  despair  that  looked 
from  her  eyes,  and  the  colorless  face,  would  have  dis- 
abused the  mind  of  a  stranger  of  that  impression. 

Redding  had  heard  and  had  sent  some  one  for  her, 
she  was  sure.  He  had  ever  been  so  tender  and  so  kind. 
Then  they  had  but  six  months  more  to  wait  until  he 
came  into  his  inheritance,  and  they  could  go  far  away 
from  all  this  suffering  and  could  marry.  But  could  she 
ever  forget  it?  Ah,  it  would  take  years,  with  all  his 
love  and  devotion,  to  make  dim  this  dreadful  disgrace, 
this  infamy  that  she  had  borne. 

The  jailer  unlocked  the  barred  gate  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  and  she  passed  through. 

Morello  stepped  up  to  her.  One  glance  at  her  sweet, 
suffering  face  sent  his  blood  pounding  through  him  in 
torrents,  but  he  had  himself  in  hand. 

"You  were  sent  for  me?"  she  questioned  gently,  yet 
it  was  not  a  question,  but  a  statement,  so  sure  was  she  of 
it. 

"I  have  come  for  you,"  he  returned.  "You  are  to 
come  with  me.  I  have  a  machine  outside." 

He  placed  her  in  the  tonneau  and  they  were  soon  at 

41 


THE  DRAG-NET 

the  church,  or  as  near  as  they  could  get,  for  the  whole 
block  was  lined  with  vehicles  of  the  rich  and  great. 

"I — I  don't  understand,"  she  faltered  as  he  led  her 
up  the  steps  of  the  edifice. 

"  Redding  is  here,"  he  whispered.  Then  in  an  agony 
of  pity  he  said,  "  Pray  compose  yourself,  and  call  up 
your  courage." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  answered,  straightening,  "of  course 
he  knows  best." 

They  went  in  silently  and  stood  at  the  back  of  the 
church.  The  bride  and  groom  were  kneeling,  with 
bowed  heads,  before  the  clergyman,  who  was  praying. 
The  girl's  eyes  searched  the  people  for  the  one  she 
loved.  He  would  come  to  her,  in  a  moment,  she  knew, 
for  he  must  be  watching  to  see  when  this  friend  of  his 
brought  her.  Perhaps  he  belonged  to  the  bridal  party, 
and  could  not  come  until  it  was  over ;  but  she  would  not 
be  impatient,  now  that  she  was  free  again,  and  so  soon 
to  be  with  him.  She  drew  her  long  black  cloak  about 
her  and  stood  up  firmly. 

The  prayer  ended.  There  was  a  hushed  stir  all  over 
the  church,  as  the  people  settled  back  in  their  seats ;  and 
then  the  bridal  couple  arose,  and  the  man's  profile  was 
turned  to  them,  for  an  instant,  as  he  looked  at  the 
beautiful  white-robed  figure  beside  him. 

She  started,  her  lips  parting,  her  eyes  dilating,  and 
doubt,  uncertainty,  then  certainty,  painting  her  pale 
features  with  their  dyes. 

Morello  stood  close  beside  her,  watching,  and  he 

42 


The  man's  profile  was  turned  to  them. 


THE  PRISONER 

caught  the  limp  body  as  her  senses  mercifully  left  her. 
An  usher  noticed,  and  came  to  his  aid. 

"We  were  late" — Morello  whispered.  "She  has 
been  ill,  and  the  flowers — " 

"Yes,  yes,  what  can  I  do?"  questioned  the  usher, 
hastily. 

"  Nothing,  thanks,  I  have  my  machine  at  the  door," 
Morello  said,  and  he  carried  her  out.  One  of  the  wait- 
ing chauffeurs  came  running  up. 

"Which  is  your  machine?"  he  asked  with  quick 
common  sense,  "  I'll  bring  it  up!" 

"The  white  one  down  there  in  the  next  block — No. 
1098,"  answered  Morello. 

Before  the  man  came  with  the  vehicle  the  girl  revived 
and  got  to  her  feet,  but  she  was  too  dazed  and  stunned 
to  speak  or  stir.  She  was  like  a  frozen  thing. 

"Come,"  said  Morello  gently,  "I  will  help  you. 
That  chauffeur  has  brought  my  machine." 

She  said  no  word,  but  suffered  him  to  lead  her  through 
the  maze  of  vehicles  to  the  one  they  had  come  in. 

As  he  shut  her  in,  he  again  whispered,  "Courage, 
call  up  your  pride  and  your  will. "  But  she  did  not  hear 
him,  and  he  felt  the  words  were  meaningless  to  her. 

The  great  organ  pealed  out  into  the  joyful  wedding 
march  as  he  sprang  to  the  driver's  seat,  and  he  set  his 
teeth  to  keep  from  cursing  as  he  wormed  his  way  along 
until  he  got  to  a  block  where  the  street  was  clear;  then 
he  put  on  speed  and  they  flew  along  until  they  got  down 
into  the  valley.  Here,  as  he  saw  a  long  stretch  of  road 

43 


THE  DRAG-NET 

before  him,  he  glanced  back  at  her.  She  was  leaning 
against  the  cushioned  seat  and  her  eyes  were  closed,  her 
face  deadly  pale.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  her 
or  what  to  do.  That  she  was  oblivious  of  everything, 
he  saw,  and  he  wanted  to  arouse  her,  but  he  was  all 
at  sea  as  to  the  best  way.  After  a  moment's  considera- 
tion he  gradually  let  the  machine  out.  He  would  try 
what  a  great  speed  down  to  the  ocean  would  do. 

The  eighteen  miles  were  eaten  up  in  a  twinkling  by 
the  little  dynamo,  and  soon  they  were  running  along  the 
beach  almost  at  the  water's  edge. 

Then  he  looked  at  her  again.  She  was  gazing  out 
over  the  ocean  with  a  strained,  wild  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Grand!    Isn't  it?"  he  asked,  steadying  his  voice. 

She  half  turned  toward  him  but  did  not  answer,  and 
the  sunlit  ocean  drew  her  eyes  again.  He  would  try 
once  more. 

"  Did  you  ever  live  by  the  sea  ?" 

She  turned  again  toward  him,  passing  her  hand 
across  her  eyes,  but  she  did  not  answer  his  question; 
instead  she  asked  in  a  dreamy,  far-away  voice, 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Prentiss  Morello,  and  I  hope  to  be  of 
service  to  you,"  he  replied  gently. 

"Then  take  me  away  from  this — sea.  Take  me 
to  a  house — anywhere — where  I  can  crawl  away, — into 
the  dark — into  the — dark !" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  will.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I'm 
glad  you  told  me.  Have  you  any  address  ?"  Then  he 

44 


added  quickly,  "Tell  me  the  address  of  your  dearest 
friend.  She's  the  one  you  should  go  to  now." 

"My  dearest  friend,"  she  repeated  slowly,  "my 
dearest  friend."  Then  turning  her  great,  sad  eyes 
upon  him,  she  said,  "I  don't  know  whether  you  will 
believe  me,  but  I  haven't  a  friend  in  all  the  world — 
neither  here — nor  in  England." 

Morello  looked  at  her  with  infinite  pity,  as  her  eyes 
again  searched  the  purple  distance  of  the  sea.  The 
motor  was  creeping  slowly  along  as  he  thought,  weighed, 
measured  and  considered.  If  the  Bishop's  sister,  who 
managed  his  household  affairs,  were  anything  but  the 
straight-laced  spinster  she  was,  he  would  take  her  there, 
but  he  couldn't  risk  it.  He  could  hear  the  grating, 
didactic  utterances  she  would  pour  forth,  if  indeed  she 
would  see  the  girl  at  all.  No,  that  would  not  do! 

Five  minutes  more  of  intense  concentration  upon  the 
problem,  and  then  as  the  machine  climbed  up  the  bluff 
overhanging  the  ocean  he  threw  up  his  head,  and  his 
eyes  shone  and  his  breath  came  quickly.  He  felt  as 
though  a  divine  finger  had  pointed  the  way  before  him, 
and  he  felt  the  sword  that  the  Bishop  had  girded  him 
with  already  in  his  hand.  He  turned  again  to  her. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  "I  will  take  you  to  a  quiet  place 
where  you  will  be  quite  safe.  Now  call  up  every  bit 
of  courage  you  have,  and  pray — pray  as  you  never  have 
prayed  before!" 

"There  is  nothing — to  pray  for,  but — death!"  she 
said,  enunciating  slowly  and  painfully. 

45 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  did  not  reply,  but  he  gave  the  vehicle  its  head 
and  when  he  reached  the  city  he  did  not  go  through, 
but  skirted  it  and  climbed  into  the  hills.  Up,  up, 
until  the  city  and  foothill  towns  and  the  shining  sea 
lay  stretched  beneath  them  like  a  picture. 

She  saw  none  of  the  beauties  of  the  place,  for  her 
eyes  were  turned  within,  always  within,  and  she 
noticed  nothing  external.  There  was  just  one  living, 
pulsating  horror  that  had  engulfed  her,  that  had  pos- 
sessed her  utterly  —  the  thought  that  she  had  been  in 
that  foul  prison  while  Redding  had  been  preparing 
for  his  marriage  to  another;  the  fact  that  she  had  only 
belonged  to  the  secret  portion  of  his  existence,  the 
criminal  part  of  his  life,  and  was  now  dead  as  far  as 
he  was  concerned. 

Morello  did  not  even  offer  his  hand  to  help  her 
from  her  seat,  as  they  stopped  at  the  side  entrance  to 
his  house.  He  wanted  her  to  have  to  exert  herself, 
to  be  obliged  to  withdraw  her  mind  from  her  trouble, 
so  he  simply  said,  "Come,  please,"  and  led  the  way 
to  the  door. 

She  obeyed  unthinkingly,  not  noticing  that  he  him- 
self unlocked  the  door.  He  led  the  way  to  the  great 
living-room,  so  cool  and  quiet.  She  looked  relieved 
when  she  saw  that  there  was  no  one  there. 

"  Could  you  —  would  it  be  possible  —  to  let  me  go 
away  by  myself  before  any  one  comes?"  she  asked 
anxiously.  "  You  could  explain  to  the  —  people. 
Tell  them  what  you  wish.  If  they  will  let  me  stay 

46 


THE  PRISONER 

to-night  —  just  to-night  —  until  I  can  think  —  until 
I  can  realize  — "  she  stopped  shudderingly. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I'm  sure  you  can  stay,  not  only 
to-night,  but  until  you  are  quite  ready  to  leave.  There 
is  a  room  here,  on  this  side,  that  no  one  needs  —  you 
can  have  that,  I'm  sure." 

She  went  towards  the  door  he  indicated  with  a  great 
sigh,  as  though  to  shrink  from  sight;  but  he  said: 

"There  is  one  thing  I  should  like  to  be  assured  of 
before  you  go.  You  will  not  destroy  yourself?" 

"  No, — no, — I  cannot  do  that.  I  only  wish  I  could ! 
Oh,  I  wish  I  could!" 

"Why  could  you  not?"  he  asked  searchingly. 

"Why?"  she  repeated,  looking  at  him  in  astonish- 
ment. "Because  of — God!" 

"That  is  right,"  he  replied.  "It  was  because  of 
God  that  I  did  not  destroy  myself  about  a  year  ago. 
You  can  be  trusted  with — God." 


47 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  COMPACT 

THE  night  came.  He  took  a  tray  of  food  to  that 
silent  room  and  knocked.  There  was  no  answer.  He 
knocked  again,  insistently. 

There  was  a  movement  within  as  of  a  pained  and 
weary  body.  The  face  he  saw  as  she  opened  the 
door  made  his  belief  that  she  would  come  through 
this  ordeal  with  courage  and  spirit  die  within  him. 
Her  cheeks  and  lips  were  of  a  dead  white,  and  her 
eyes  were  the  deep  graves  of  a  joy  and  trust  that  had 
been  supreme  and  that,  in  dying,  had  left  a  commen- 
surate void.  When  she  saw  the  tray  she  said  reproach- 
fully: 

"Oh,  did  you  call  me  just  for  this?" 

"  This  is  very  necessary,  if  you  would  not  destroy 
yourself,  and  you  said  you  would  not.  There  is 
more  than  one  way,  you  know,  of  destroying  yourself, 
and  you  must  not,  you  must  not!  You  are  not  friend- 
less, as  you  said.  You  will  never  lack  for  a  true  friend 
while  I  live." 

She  looked  at  him  then,  as  though  really  seeing  him 
for  the  first  time.  He  had  been  but  a  means  before 
this,  an  instrument,  to  disclose  the  black  pit  into  which 
her  steps  had  strayed.  She  had  noticed,  him  no  more 

48 


THE  COMPACT 

than  the  car  in  which  he  had  arrived,  but  now  she 
looked  at  his  dark,  handsome  face,  and  shuddered. 

"The  words  are  meaningless  to  me,"  she  said, 
taking  the  tray,  "  perfectly  meaningless. " 

"I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least,  nor  can  I  wonder  at 
it,"  he  returned,  "but  all  I  ask  of  you  is  to  eat  the 
food.  Good  night." 

She  closed  the  door  without  response  and  locked  it. 

He  looked  about  the  great  living-room  then,  and 
setting  a  few  things  in  order,  switched  off  all  the  lights 
but  one  that  hung  from  a  side  panel  above  a  sunken 
book-case.  The  next  step,  it  seemed  to  him,  was  to 
go  to  the  Bishop's  country  house  for  his  effects.  He 
hoped  the  good  old  man  might  not  be  there.  There 
was  a  mighty  leavening  of  events  in  his  life,  but  to 
what  it  would  tend  he  did  not  know.  There  was  a 
bridge  building  for  him,  but  whether  his  steps  would 
ever  cross  it  he  could  not  tell.  The  Bishop  would  not 
see  the  leavening  and  would  scoff  at  the  bridge.  He 
was  an  eminently  practical  man,  so  he  hoped  he  would 
not  be  there.  In  this  hope,  however,  he  was  disap- 
pointed. 

"Ah,  Morello,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  back.  You've 
come  to  stay,  haven't  you?"  said  the  old  man  entreat- 
ingly,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"No,  Father,  not  to  stay,  but  to  tell  you  why," 
answered  Morello,  gently. 

The  Bishop's  face  fell.  He  sighed;  then,  in  his 
usual  philosophical  way,  he  returned, 

49 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"So  be  it  then;  but  I'm  disappointed.  I  thought 
perhaps  you  had  some  affection  for  the  old  man  and 
that  I  could  induce  you  to  stay;  but  I  see  you  are 
resolved." 

"  Yes,  despite  the  affection  that  I  really  have,  Father. 
There  is  no  other  way  for  me," 

"You  know,  Morello,  the  salary  could  be  anything 
you  wished  ?" 

Morello  smiled  at  that  and  the  Bishop  resented  it. 
"You  are  a  dreamer,"  he  said.  "You  are  not  a 
practical  man,  Morello. 

"Perhaps,"  returned  the  young  man,  conciliatingly. 
"  Perhaps  I  am.  But  I  shall  have  your  staunch  oppo- 
sition, which  will  steady  me.  When  I  have  told  you 
what  I  have  decided  this  night  to  do,  what  you  say 
will  make  the  thing  monstrous  to  me  or  will  make  it 
stand  out  as  a  divine  and  an  atoning  event. 

The  Bishop  sat  up  straighter  in  his  arm-chair  and 
gazed  searchingly  at  Morello,  who  walked  slowly  the 
length  of  the  room  and  back. 

"But  I  want  you  to  speak  now,"  the  young  man 
said  with  emphasis,  "  from  your  exalted  position.  Be- 
come the  mouthpiece  of  the  real  God  you  believe  in! 
Leave  the  man  side,  the  world  side,  entirely  out  of  the 
question!  How  can  that  concern  us,  Bishop,  when 
we  are  marshaling  the  motives  that  decide  the  destiny 
of  the  real  within  us?  How  can  that  concern  us,  to 
whom  it  is  given  to  drop  away  from  the  flesh  and 
mammon  sometimes  and  to  stand  face  to  face  wkh 

50 


THE  COMPACT 

the  intensified  life  that  is  unseen  ?     How  can  it  ?" 

"It  cannot  concern  us  at  all,  boy,"  replied  the  old 
man,  in  a  strangely  interested  voice. 

"Then  it  is  to  be  ex-cathedra,  Bishop,"  said  Morello. 

"It  shall  be  ex-cathedra,"  returned  the  Bishop. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  what  has  befallen  me." 

He  drew  up  a  big  arm-chair  in  front  of  the  prelate 
and  seated  himself,  leaning  half  out  of  it  in  his  earnest- 
ness, then  in  a  clear  and  steady  voice,  he  narrated  the 
events  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  He  painted  the 
character  of  Fane  Redding  as  he  knew  it  to  be.  He 
told  of  his  immunity  from  interference  by  the  officials. 
Then  he  spoke  of  the  girl,  of  her  gentleness,  her  refine- 
ment, which  must  have  augmented  her  sufferings  in 
that  loathsome  jail,  of  her  mental  anguish  and  broken 
spirit.  He  told  where  he  had  taken  her  and  of  plans 
which  he  thought  he  should  try  to  put  into  execution 
the  following  day. 

Then  the  old  Bishop  rose  hastily  to  his  feet. 

"No,  no,  boy,  no!  Surely  not  that!"  he  exclaimed. 
"You  are  quite  mad!" 

"  Father,  you  must  not  speak  to  me  as  a  man  of  the 
world.  Remember  it  is  ex-cathedra,"  said  Morello, 
rising. 

"But  such  a  sacrifice!  and  it  is  not  necessary!"  he 
insisted. 

"Is  sacrifice  to  be  condemned  by  a  Bishop?"  asked 
the  young  man,  fastening  his  eyes  upon  the  other's  face. 

"There  are   works  of  supererogation,"  began   the 

51 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Bishop,  weakly,  but  Morello  hastily  interrupted  him. 

"Supererogation!  Faugh!  A  divine  guide  to  the 
groping  soul  brings  up  that  most  infamous  insult  to 
the  human  reason!  But  there  is  no  sacrifice  at  all,  in 
this  case,"  he  said,  "that  is,  upon  my  side.  What  her 
sacrifice  has  been,  God  alone  knows.  Just  now  she  is 
buried  in  the  shadows  of  those  sacrificial  months  — 
buried  deep  in  those  shadows!" 

The  clock  struck  nine  mellow  notes  and  neither 
spoke  until  it  ceased,  and  a  vibrating  silence  filled  the 
room.  The  clock  had  reminded  the  clergyman  of  the 
shortness  of  this  that  we  call  time,  and  the  deep  cathe- 
dral-like tones  had  recalled  him  to  the  other  worldli- 
ness  of  his  profession,  also  the  impinging  of  the  young 
man's  sublimated  consciousness  upon  his  own  less 
exalted  habit  of  thought  had  worked  a  miracle  of 
change  in  the  few  moment's  silence.  He  turned 
towards  Morello,  falteringly. 

"My  boy,  my  boy,  you  have  quite  won  me  over," 
he  said,  a  strange  light  leaping  into  his  dim  eyes.  "  You 
have  the  spiritual  discernment.  It  is  a  great  gift." 

"Father,"  replied  Morello,  deeply  moved,  "then 
what  I  contemplate  I  will  carry  out  to  the  very  letter." 

"  I  give  up,  boy,  and  I  will  say  this  that  I  never  said 
before  to  a  human  being.  Your  intuitions  are  a  safe 
guide  —  yes,  as  safe  as  any.  You  don't  need  me,  boy." 

"I  pray  that  I  may  need  you,  sometime,  and  your 
sacred  offices,"  the  young  man  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Then  see  that  you  keep  yourself  unspotted  from 

52 


THE  COMPACT 

the  world  until  that  time  comes,"  announced  the 
Bishop  earnestly. 

"I  will!  Folly  and  I  have  separated  forever!  Life 
is  a  tremendous  thing,  Father!" 

"So  tremendous  that  the  mind  is  appalled  when 
looking  into  the  heart  of  it,  boy." 

"Now  I  must  go.  Good-bye.  You  are  the  only 
father  I  have  known  and  you  have  been  so  good  to  me." 

The  Bishop  pressed  his  hand,  but  did  not  speak, 
and  Morello  went  out  quickly  and  drove  the  car  slowly 
over  the  intervening  miles. 

All  was  still  about  the  bungalow  when  he  let  him- 
self in.  He  listened  intently,  but  could  hear  no  sound. 
He  hoped  the  girl  was  sleeping.  He  sat  until  long 
after  midnight  in  the  living-room  thinking  and  plan- 
ning, marking  out  a  pathway  for  himself  —  and,  yes, 
mistily  defining  a  life  for  her  too  —  if  she  would. 

Between  one  and  two  o'clock  he  heard  a  stifled 
sound.  She  had  given  her  promise  not  to  destroy 
herself,  but  the  stillness  had  been  disconcerting;  so  he 
was  glad  to  hear  a  sound,  even  though  it  was  one  of 
grief.  He  crept  noiselessly  to  the  door  and  listened. 
A  muffled  sobbing  and  weeping  met  his  ear  and  then, 
as  though  the  floodgates  of  anguish  were  really  opened, 
the  tide  that  overwhelmed  her  could  not  be  shut  in, 
the  torrent  of  her  grief  poured  forth  uncontrolled. 
He  was  very  glad,  knowing  the  tears  to  be  healing, 
and  he  went  silently  away  into  the  library  and  lay 
upon  the  couch  there  and  slept  until  daylight. 

53 


THE  DRAG-NET 

When  he  had  breakfast  prepared  he  knocked  at  the 
door  of  her  room.  It  was  opened  immediately. 

"If  you  are  ready,  will  you  come  out  to  breakfast 
now,  please?  It's  such  a  lovely  morning!"  he  said, 
pleasantly. 

"Yes,  thank  you,  I'll  be  there  in  a  moment,"  she 
returned. 

She  was  very  pale,  but  there  was  a  degree  of  tran- 
quility  in  her  face  that  evidenced  a  strong  soul.  He 
went  into  the  pretty  dining-room,  leaving  the  door 
open,  that  she  might  see  where  to  go,  and  stood  by  his 
chair,  waiting. 

In  a  few  moments  she  came  out  into  the  living-room 
and,  looking  about,  saw  the  open  dining-room  door, 
the  little  table  set  for  two  and  Morello  standing  behind 
a  chair. 

"  Is  —  is  it  so  late  ?  Have  the  people  breakfasted  ?" 
she  asked  gently,  walking  toward  the  chair  Morello 
indicated. 

"  It  is  not  very  late  and  —  there  are  no  people  to 
breakfast,  Miss  Brookfield,"  he  returned,  for  he 
knew  she  had  to  be  told.  He  would  get  it  over  before 
they  were  seated. 

"No  people?"  she  exclaimed.  "Whose  house  am 
I  in  then?" 

"  Mine !  It  was  a  quiet  haven  of  safety  for  you.  I 
knew  of  no  other  and  I  brought  you  here. " 

"And  there  has  been  no  one  here  but  you  ?"  There 
was  great  indignation  in  the  question. 

54 


THE  COMPACT 

"No  one!"  He  must  try  to  let  her  see  a  little  how 
things  stood.  "There  was  no  need,"  —  he  blundered, 
"  That  is,  circumstances  — 

"You  need  not  explain,  Mr.  —  I  don't  even  know 
your  name,"  she  said,  lifting  her  head  proudly. 

"Morello." 

"Morello,"  she  repeated,  a  deep  flush  suffusing  her 
face.  "You  mean  I  have  forfeited  all  right  to  chap- 
eronage.  You  are  right,  but  my  instincts  — " 

"Please  listen,"  he  interrupted,  "and  try  to  under- 
stand. It  would  be  the  greatest  folly  for  you  and  me 
to  stumble  over  conventional  rocks.  I  wished  to 
befriend  you  and  you  know  whether  I  did  or  not.  I 
feel  nothing  but  the  most  sacred  respect  for  you  and 
you  are  safe  with  me  as  if  with  your  own  father.  Now, 
please  sit  down  and  let  us  get  some  breakfast.  I'm 
as  hungry  as  the  traditional  bear." 

"  Who  paid  my  fine  ?"  she  asked,  so  low  as  to  hardly 
be  heard. 

"  I  did.  How  do  you  take  coffee  ?  I  pride  myself 
on  making  good  coffee.  The  Bishop — Bishop  Woods, 
you  know  —  Please  sit  down  —  Bishop  Woods  thought 
I  could  brew  coffee  better  than  any  one  and  he's  quite 
an  epicurean.  I  spent  the  last  year  with  the  Bishop, 
as  his  gardener  first,  and  then  as  his  secretary." 

He  saw  that  it  was  doubtful  if  she  had  heard  a  word 
that  he  had  spoken,  but  she  had  seated  herself  and 
indignation  had  quite  died  from  her  face.  He  thought 
it  best  to  go  on,  so  he  said: 

55 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  If  you  wish  to  return  any  fancied  kindness  on  my 
part,  you'll  eat  a  good  breakfast." 

"I'm  sure  you  are  very  kind  and  I  will  try,"  she 
returned.  He  spoke  of  the  carnations  he  had  gathered 
and  placed  upon  the  table  and  of  any  pleasant  subject 
he  could  think  of,  not  requiring  replies,  nor  waiting 
for  them.  He  kept  her  plate  supplied  and  did  full 
justice  to  the  breakfast  himself  and  so,  at  last,  it  was 
over,  and  he  led  the  way  into  the  living-room.  She 
stood  still,  waiting  a  moment  before  vanishing,  waiting 
for  something  they  must  say  to  each  other.  This  man 
must  have  something  to  say  to  her,  for  had  he  not 
appeared  —  risen,  seemingly,  out  of  the  earth  and 
constituted  himself  her  protector?  He  must  have  had 
a  reason.  What  would  he  say  to  her?  Would  it  be 
something  she  could  not  bear?  She  had  lost  faith  in 
men  and  began  to  be  afraid. 

"You  have  been  very  kind,"  she  began,  "but  I 
must  go." 

"Where?"  he  asked,  pertinently. 

A  great  lump  came  in  her  throat.  She  flung  up  one 
hand  upon  her  breast  and  clutched  her  dress  with  the 
other  and  fell  to  trembling.  The  terrible  thing  he  had 
to  say  would  come,  she  knew,  before  she  could  get 
away.  He  would  tell  her  to  stay  here,  in  this  house, 
when  she  knew  there  was  no  one  but  himself  there. 

"I  will  find  a  place,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"I  see  you  are  afraid  of  me,"  he  returned,  "and  I 
fear  I  cannot  disabuse  your  mind  of  that,  just  at  first; 

56 


THE  COMPACT 

but  if  you  will  listen  patiently  to  what  I  have  to  say,  I 
think  I  can.  Let  me  first  prevail  upon  you  to  sit 
down  and  at  least  try  not  to  imagine  evil  of  me  without 
reason  —  you  would  not  like  that  yourself,  would 
you?" 

She  sat  down  then,  composing  herself  as  well  as  she 
could,  disconcerting  him  a  little  with  the  defiant  light 
of  her  eyes. 

"  I  cannot  expect  you  to  have  faith  in  my  manhood, 
now,  I  know,"  he  continued,  "but  if  you  only  would, 
I  could  explain  things  so  much  better." 

"  Why  not  let  me  go  without  an  explanation  ? ' '  she 
said.  "That  would  be  the  manly  thing." 

"No  —  not  the  manly  thing,"  he  exclaimed.  "The 
Bishop  agreed  with  me.  I  went  to  see  him  last  night, 
and  I  told  him  all  and  he  bade  me  God-speed." 

"  Told  him  all !"  she  said  with  a  great  scorn.  "  What 
does  'air  mean?  What  have  we  in  common?  Not 
one  thing!  You  have  rendered  me  a  great  service, 
which  I  shall  always  remember  with  gratitude,  if  you 
will  allow  me  to  take  a  peaceful  departure.  If  not — 
I  shall  be  sorry  you  did  not  leave  me — where  I  was." 

"If  I  rendered  you  a  great  service,  as  you  say,  and 
you  are  grateful,  then  render  me  a  like  one  in  return 
by  listening  to  what  I  have  to  say,  and  don't  condemn 
me  unheard,"  he  answered,  his  head  high  and  his 
voice  stern. 

"I  will  listen,  but  please  be  brief." 

"I  will  be  as  brief  as  possible,  but  I  must  relate  a 

57 


THE  DRAG-NET 

little  of  my  life  to  you,  to  make  you  understand.  Per- 
haps you  remember  that  I  told  you  last  night  that 
about  a  year  ago  I  would  have  taken  my  life  but  for 
—God." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"  I  had  been  the  means  of  the  death  of  three  innocent 
people." 

"Horrible!"  she  exclaimed,  recoiling  unconsciously. 

He  saw  the  movement  and  went  further  away  from 
her. 

"Most  horrible!"  he  returned.  "The  poor  victims 
had  done  me  no  harm.  There  was  a  loving  mother, 
her  only  son  and  a  patrolman,"  —  he  stopped  a  mo- 
ment, overcome,  as  he  always  was  at  thought  of  that 
tragedy.  "I  had  finished  college  and  my  time  hung 
heavily  on  my  hands  —  my  mother  and  sister  were  in 
Europe.  An  old  schoolmate  suggested  that  I  enter 
the  police  force  of  the  city  with  him  and  get  acquainted 
with  the  underworld  to  tide  over  the  time  until  I  came 
into  my  property,  when  I  was  to  join  my  mother  and 
sister.  With  scarcely  a  thought  I  said  that  I  would. 
He  was  a  good  sort  of  fellow  and  had  got  along  all 
right  as  an  officer;  and  I  should  have  some  experience, 
should  see  life.  We  are  given  to  calling  that  sort  of 
thing  life,  you  know.  Well,  they  got  me  scouring  the 
arroyo  for  tramps.  That  and  Hill  Park  are  where 
they  hide  and  sleep.  It's  a  crime,  in  this  free  and 
enlightened  country,  to  be  penniless  and  homeless, 
and  it's  punished  by  imprisonment." 

58 


THE  COMPACT 

She  was  looking  intently  at  him  now,  apparently 
listening  to  every  word  he  spoke.  Glad  to  have  en- 
gaged her  intelligent  attention  at  last,  he  continued : 

"In  England  they  used  to  imprison  people  for  debt; 
the  imprisonment  served  to  check  all  employment 
whereby  the  debtor  could  earn  money  to  pay  his  debts 
and  so  it  defeated  its  own  purpose.  Here  we  take 
away  the  man's  chance  to  earn  his  living  by  shutting 
him  up  and  putting  him  in  the  chain-gang.  This 
young  man  was  going  home  to  his  old  mother  in  St. 
Pius.  He  hadn't  money  to  ride,  so  he  walked.  I 
found  him  down  in  the  arroyo  eating  a  roll  and  drink- 
ing a  cup  of  coffee  he  had  just  made.  His  clothes,  of 
course,  were  ragged  and  he  was  unkempt.  I  had 
orders  to  run  all  these  vagabonds  in,  so  I  proceeded  to 
do  it.  I  had  taken  dozens  of  them  to  the  station  and 
felt  no  compunction. 

"I  think  my  soul  was  asleep  at  the  time  or,  rather, 
steeped  to  insensibility  in  the  riotous  joy  of  mere  living. 
I  had  never  questioned  the  law  or  the  authorities.  I 
did  what  I  was  told,  even  getting  pleasure  out  of  it. 
It  was  not  to  be  for  long  and  I  was  learning  low  life. 
Perhaps,  sometime  in  the  future,  I  could  use  this  knowl- 
edge. I  had  dim  notions  of  writing  books  after  I  had 
spent  a  few  years  traveling  around  the  world  and  any- 
thing I  could  pick  up  at  first  hand  would  be  grist  for 
my  mill.  When  I  told  the  poor  boy  —  he  could  not 
have  been  more  than  twenty  I  think  —  that  he  was 
under  arrest,  he  cried  out  fiercely  that  I  could  not 

59 


THE  DRAG-NET 

arrest  him,  as  he  had  committed  no  crime.  It  is  not 
the  habit  of  policemen  to  listen  to  explanations.  They 
go  upon  the  supposition  that  there  is  no  truth  and 
nothing  good  in  these  unfortunates,  so  they  make 
short  work  of  it.  I  did  the  same.  He  stooped  to  get 
a  stick  and  I  felled  him  with  my  club." 

The  girl  shuddered  and  turned  her  eyes  away  from 
him  in  horror.  He  winced  at  her  evident  judgment, 
but  kept  on  staunchly. 

"This  made  him  hate  me  and,  though  he  saw  that 
he  could  not  get  away  and  did  as  he  was  ordered,  his 
eyes  glared  at  me  with  unconcealed  hatred.  At  his 
hearing  he  was  given  sixty  days  and  the  next  day  he 
was  put  on  the  chain-gang.  He  was  sick  and  it  went 
hard  with  him.  They  make  the  suburban  streets,  this 
gang,  and  while  out  in  the  hills  he  escaped.  I  was 
sent  to  capture  him.  A  man  who  had  known  him, 
betrayed  him.  They  reward  betrayal  in  the  legal 
world.  This  man  got  his  liberty  by  telling  the  boy's 
real  name  and  where  his  home  was.  So  we  went 
there,  Patrolman  Masters  and  myself.  They  were 
eating  breakfast.  The  mother  stood  at  his  chair,  his 
head  was  upon  her  breast  and  his  arm  about  her  waist, 
when  we  entered.  He  sprang  up  when  he  heard  us, 
and  all  his  hatred  of  me  flared  up  into  a  terrible  flame 
and  enveloped  him.  He  backed  to  the  wall,  I  thought, 
in  fear  and  rage,  but  in  an  instant  he  had  a  revolver  in 
his  hand  and  Masters  fell  dead.  Before  he  could  turn 
it  upon  me  I  shot  him  through  the  heart  and  the  poor 

60 


THE  COMPACT 

mother  fell  shrieking  upon  his  body.  God  was  mer- 
ciful. He  had  his  mother  with  him  on  the  other  side. 
A  few  convulsive  movements  and  she  was  gone. 
The  three  lay  dead  before  me,  the  direct  result  of  his 
arrest  in  the  arroyo,  simply  for  being  poor  and  eating 
and  traveling  as  the  very  poor  must." 

"Oh,  what  did  you  do,"  asked  the  girl,  gazing  at 
him  with  pained  eyes. 

Morello  had  had  hard  work  to  steady  his  voice. 

"What  did  I  do?"  he  asked,  huskily.  "I,  too, 
died  in  that  hour;  but  I  was  born  again  here  —  not 
over  there  with  those  poor  victims.  I  was  born  here 
for  a  purpose;  I  have  come  to  think." 

"It  is  dreadful,"  she  said,  avoiding  his  gaze,  "but 
please  let  me  go  now.  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  very. 
It  must  be  dreadful  to  be  the  cause  of  harm  even  to 
any  one  —  but  to  kill  —  to  kill  — " 

Her  voice  died  away,  her  head  bowed  and  her  eyes 
sought  the  floor. 

"You  see  what  I  am,"  he  began  again.  "I  am  a 
self-confessed  murderer.  It  does  not  matter  how  it 
came  about,  the  fact  remains.  I  went  to  Bishop  Woods 
and  told  him  just  as  I  have  told  you,  a  few  days  after- 
wards, for  I  thought  my  reason  was  going.  He  told 
me  to  go  to  his  country  place  and  work  in  the  earth  — 
to  work  hard  for  my  daily  bread.  I  did  this  eight 
months.  It  saved  me.  Then  I  became  his  secretary, 
but  I  knew  there  was  other  work  for  me  to  do  and  now 
I  know  what  it  is  and  I  am  ready.  I  began  this  work 

61 


THE  DRAG-NET 

yesterday,  when  I  took  you  out  of  that  loathsome  jail." 

She  looked  up  at  him  then,  thrilled  with  the  earnest- 
ness, the  depth  of  his  decision  in  his  tones. 

"You  are  going  to  help  —  to  help  — "  she  said  in  a 
low  voice,  but  he  interrupted  her  quickly. 

"I  am  going  to  send  out  a  never-ending  cry  against 
the  horrors  of  our  penal  system.  I'm  going  to  devote 
my  fortune,  my  strength  and  my  intellect,  to  showing 
up  to  the  world  the  awful  injustice  of  our  system  of 
justice,  and  I'm  going  to  point  out  how  the  Drag-Net 
only  catches  the  poor,  weak,  comparatively  harmless 
criminal,  the  innocent  unfortunate,  while  the  colossal 
villains  go  untouched." 

"It  is  a  splendid  work,"  she  said,  rising,  as  he 
paused.  "  Perhaps  —  perhaps  it  was  necessary  for 
you  to  have  such  a  terrible  awakening." 

"Now  you  see  what  I  am,"  he  said  hurriedly,  for  he 
saw  that  she  was  getting  impatient  at  his  long  story, 
"  and  this  is  what  I  have  to  suggest  to  you  —  only 
suggest,  mind,  and  if  it  does  not  meet  with  your  ap- 
proval you  can  go  at  any  minute.  I  will  not  pretend 
to  be  in  any  way  worthy  of  —  of  your  companionship, 
but  you  have  no  home  or  friends,  and  I  am  alone.  If 
you  would  consent  to  go  through  a  civil  ceremony  with 
me,  so  that  I  could  have  the  right  to  protect  you  —  so 
that,  bearing  my  name,  you  could  live  without  fear  — " 

"  I  ?    You  ?  —  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  a  civil  ceremony  of  marriage  that 
would  mean  nothing  to  me  —  that  I  should  never  pre- 
62 


THE  COMPACT 

sume  upon,  in  order  to  give  you  a  home  and  my  pro- 
tection," he  said  firmly. 

"Oh  no,  no,"  she  said,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  sobbing  bitterly  for  a  few  moments.  "  When 
you  know  —  when  you  know  —  oh,  how  could  you  ? 
—  how  could  you?" 

"Please  listen  and  try  to  understand,"  he  said  plead- 
ingly. "I  have  only  the  greatest  respect  for  you,  even 
though  I  know,  and  it  is  because  of  this  respect  that  I 
offer  this  home  and  my  name.  It  is  because  of  this 
respect  that  I  say  a  civil  ceremony,  not  a  religious  one, 
for  the  civil  tie  would  simply  bind  us  outwardly  and 
would  free  you  from  comment,  —  would  mean  nothing 
to  me  —  you  would  be  as  free  as  though  with  your 
own  brother." 

"But  I  have  not  one  bit  of  trust,  not  one  bit,"  she 
moaned. 

"  Have  I  given  you  the  impression  of  being  a  man  of 
lies  and  sensuality?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  replied,  raising  her  tear-stained  face. 
"But  I  cannot  think  at  all  of  you  or  any  one;  I  can 
only  think  of  that  scene  in  the  church  yesterday.  Can't 
you  see  how  every  anchor  of  hope  is  gone  from  me?" 
how  I  am  adrift  and  lost  —  lost  ?" 

"It  is  because  I  see  all  this  that  I  am  offering  you 
my  name  and  home,"  he  said  gently,  not  daring  to  go 
near,  nor  to  take  her  hand,  nor  utter  one  endearing 
word. 

"How  is  it  possible  that  you  think  I  could  marry 

63 


THE  DRAG-NET 

another  —  after  —  oh,  you  do  not  know  what  that 
love  was  to  me,"  she  said 

"I  do  not  pretend  to,"  he  replied,  "but  I  do  know 
that  I  can  shelter  you  from  the  world.  If  you  have  a 
home,  a  mother  you  can  go  to,  I  will  say  no  more. 
Have  you  such  a  place  to  go  to?" 

"My  mother  lives  in  England,"  she  replied.  "He 
brought  me  from  my  home  in  England." 

"  You  can  go  back  there  if  you  wish,"  he  said,  despond- 
ingly.  "I  will  consider  it  a  privilege  to  provide  you 
with  the  means.  Do  you  wish  to  go  back?" 

"They,  they  would  not  have  me,"  she  returned. 
"They  have  written  me  not  to  return  under  any  cir- 
cumstances." 

"Then  why  not  do  as  I  suggest?" 

She  arose  out  of  her  great  hurt  like  a  thing  at  bay, 
but  determined  to  resent  the  indignity  she  fancied 
thrust  upon  her.  A  deep  color  dyed  her  cheeks  and 
her  eyes  flashed  angry  lights  at  him. 

"  You  do  not  know  me !  you  think  because  you  know 
of  my  shame  that  you  can  make  such  a  suggestion  to 
me!"  she  said  with  scorn.  "Never  would  you  dare  to 
make  such  a  suggestion  if  you  did  not  know.  A  mar- 
riage for  the  world's  opinion,  a  marriage  that  would 
mean  nothing  to  you!  I  have  considered  myself  mar- 
ried to  Fane  Redding  ever  since  I  left  my  father's 
home  with  him  —  and  I  was,  I  was,  in  the  sight  of 
God!"  She  broke  down  again  and  bowed  her  head 
upon  the  table. 

64 


THE  COMPACT 

When  the  violence  of  her  sobs  was  over  he  stopped, 
still  afar  off  and  said: 

"You  don't  understand  me.  I  am  only  offering 
that  which  I  would  thank  any  good  man  to  offer  my 
own  sister  under  the  circumstances.  Listen  now, 
please,  and  try  to  understand  things  as  they  are.  I 
said  such  a  ceremony  would  mean  nothing  to  me, 
because  I  think  the  only  thing  which  constitutes  a 
true  marriage  is  love  consecrated  to  the  object  of  mar- 
riage by  a  religious  service.  The  love  being  absent, 
I  think  it  perfectly  right  for  two  people  situated  as  we 
are  to  go  through  a  civil  ceremony  in  order  to  avoid 
the  world's  censure.  Were  it  not  for  that,  you  could 
live  here  sheltered  and  safe  as  my  own  sister.  There 
being  no  true  marriage  between  us,  the  love  being 
absent,  I  should  consider  you  as  one  needing  my  pro- 
tection, and  I  should  feel  that  k  was  even  more  incum- 
bent upon  me  to  protect  you  from  myself  than  from 
any  other." 

"I  think  I  do  understand,"  she  said  wearily,  "and 
if  I  comprehend  aright  you  are  very  good  and  noble 
and  I  should  be  grateful;  but  I  can't  tie  you  like  that, 
even  if  I  could  bring  myself  to  do  so  for  other  reasons. 
No,  it  would  not  be  just  to  you.  Some  day  love  will 
come  and  then  there  would  be  the  tie  and  the  battle." 

"I  am  willing  to  risk  that,"  he  replied. 

"Then,  then  you  should  marry  a  good,  pure  girl, 
not  one  like  me  —  oh,  not  one  as  stained  as  I  am," 
she  said  brokenly. 

65 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"You  think  so,"  he  said  sadly,  "but  it  is  not  so. 
You  lived  only  with  Fane  Redding  —  there  was  no 
other?" 

She  flung  her  arms  out  towards  him  in  perfect  horror. 
"  What  an  insult  that  question  is.  Oh,  what  an  insult!" 
she  exclaimed,  her  face  full  of  unutterable  misery. 

"  I  only  asked  that  you  might  contrast  yourself  with 
me,  for  I  am  not  what  you  think,"  he  replied  quickly. 
"In  my  college  days  /  fell  and  there  was  more  than 
one  and  there  was  no  love.  You  see  I  am  not  worthy 
to  touch  the  hem  of  your  garment,  poor  lady." 

She  turned  her  back  upon  him  and  walked  away  to 
the  window  overlooking  the  valley.  This  man  who 
claimed  no  virtue,  who  had  bared  his  very  soul  to  her 
gaze  and  who,  even  while  relating  evils  and  crimes  in 
himself,  had,  in  some  occult  way  she  could  not  under- 
stand, raised  himself  far  above  the  men  she  had  known 
—  this  man :  what  of  him  ?  Was  he  destined  to  occupy 
a  place  in  her  life  ?  What  was  destiny  anyway  ?  Was 
it  something  one  could  not  escape?  She  was  roused 
by  his  voice. 

"  If  you  knew  how  sorry  I  am  to  trouble  you  so  you 
would  forgive  me,  I'm  sure,"  he  said  gently.  He  stood 
quite  near  her,  but  she  did  not  turn  from  the  window. 

"There  are  so  many  flowers  out  in  the  garden  need- 
ing a  woman's  care,"  he  continued,  "and  the  bungalow 
is  very  pretty,  isn't  it  ?  Your  heart  could  grow  strong 
in  this  peace  and  quietness.  We  have  both  suffered, 
suffered  greatly,  but  we  can  atone  and  grow  up  to  our 

66 


THE  COMPACT 

ideals  if  we  will.  I've  told  you  my  sins;  couldn't  you 
overlook  them  enough  so  you  could  take  my  name 
and  let  me  shelter  you  from  the  world's  reproach, 
couldn't  you?" 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  His  fine  physique 
was  overshadowed  by  a  deep  seriousness  of  countenance 
and  a  straightforward  intentness  of  eye  that  in  some 
way  revived  her  faith  a  little. 

"I  could,"  she  said  faintly,  "perhaps,  if  I  could 
trust  any  man.  I  would  have  staked  my  life  on — his 
good  faith,  but  now  I  cannot  even  think  consecutively. 
I  don't  know  what  to  do  or  where  to  go." 

"I  was  once  in  that  condition,"  he  returned;  then 
suddenly  he  remembered  the  Bishop,  and  exclaimed: 

"Let  me  take  you  to  see  the  Bishop.  Get  advice 
from  him,  as  I  did.  Please  let  me  bring  the  car  around 
and  take  you  to  the  Bishop." 

"That  is  a  good  thought,"  she  agreed.  "It's .some- 
thing to  do  immediately,  at  least." 

"Then  I'll  go  for  the  car,"  he  said  buoyantly,  starting 
towards  the  door. 

When  he  was  gone  she  looked  about  her.  It  was 
the  pleasantest  room  she  had  been  in  for  many  a 
month.  The  dining-room  beyond  had  a  row  of  win- 
dows overlooking  the  garden.  She  went  there  and 
looked  out  upon  it.  It  was  a  dreadful  tangle,  that  was 
certain.  Like  her  life,  she  thought,  as  she  looked  at 
it.  It  was  a  riot  of  color  in  great  profusion,  but  without 
order  or  law.  It  seemed  to  her  as  she  passed  out  of 

67 


THE  DRAG-NET 

the  house  that  she  had  come  to  the  end  of  her  life,  for 
the  future  could  be  but  a  preliminary  to  the  end,  which 
she  hoped  might  be  very  near. 

The  ride  was  very  silent  and  Morello  took  the  young 
girl  into  the  drawing-room  as  soon  as  they  reached 
the  house,  and  went  in  search  of  the  Bishop. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  not  been  success- 
ful?" he  exclaimed,  when  Morello  told  his  errand. 

"Bishop,  she  isn't  —  she's  unlike  most  —  that  is, 
Father,  she  doesn't  love  me,  of  course,  and  doesn't 
want  to  marry  me.  The  fact  is  she  doesn't  trust  me. 
Her  faith  is  gone." 

"And  she  is  not  shamming  to  draw  you  on,  boy?" 

Morello 's  eyes  blazed  at  him,  then  he  laughed.  "Just 
go  and  see  for  yourself,  Father.  You'll  very  soon 
answer  your  own  question." 

"Then  you  take  your  old  car  and  go  home,"  said 
the  Bishop  boyishly. 

"But—" 

"Go  to  your  bungalow.  I'll  keep  the  young  lady 
here  until  she  either  will  or  won't.  The  housekeeper 
can  fix  a  room  for  her,"  insisted  the  old  man. 

"And  you'll  help  my  cause  along,  Father?" 

"If  I  think  she's  worthy.  That's  all  I  can  promise 
and  all  you  can  expect,"  he  replied  firmly. 

"Then  you'll  plead  my  cause  with  a  will,  Bishop," 
answered  Morello,  taking  his  hat  with  a  satisfied 
smile.  "Let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  can.  Shall  I 
go  in  and  introduce  you  ?" 

68 


THE  COMPACT 

"No,  no,  no,  you  introduced  yourself  to  me,  didn't 
you?  Well,  she  can  do  the  same." 

"Then  I'll  go;  good-bye." 

"Good-bye,  lad;  I  don't  half  like  this  business." 

"But  you  will  when  you  know  her,"  replied  Morello, 
as  he  closed  the  door. 

He  drove  like  the  wind  over  the  smooth  valley  road, 
his  heart  beating  high  with  hope  and  joy.  He  must 
set  his  house  in  order,  for  he  felt  certain  of  the  outcome 
now,  and  how  beautiful  she  was,  how  very  beautiful. 
Never  should  a  word  of  his  offend  her  delicacy,  never, 
even  in  thought,  would  he  cross  that  boundary  line  he 
had  drawn.  He  would  wage  a  fierce  war  against  the 
wrong  of  the  penal  system.  He  would  publish  a  paper 
that  should  be  filled  with  the  infamy.  It  should  be 
called  the  Drag-Net.  He  would  strive  to  find  a  remedy 
with  the  help  of  the  Bishop  and  all  good  men,  and  she 
should  help  him.  Together  they  would  atone  —  both 
such  sinners  —  both  so  repentant. 

He  would  have  the  joy  of  seeing  the  clouds  lift  from 
her  saintly  face  and  the  light  of  faith  in  him  gradually 
dawn  in  her  eyes. 

Just  at  sunset  that  night  a  boy  came  on  horseback 
and  gave  him  a  letter  from  the  Bishop;  it  was  merely 
a  line.  It  ran: 

"We  have  won,  my  boy.  Come  for  her  to-morrow 
morning." 


69 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  MARRIAGE 

MORELLO  was  a  changed  man  from  the  moment  he 
read  the  Bishop's  note.  "We  have  won,"  he  said  to 
himself  again  and  again,  laughing  softly.  "The  dear 
old  man  —  what  a  father  he  has  been  to  me." 

In  the  morning  he  awoke  with  the  sense  of  some 
great  joy  pushing  its  buoyant  way  into  his  conscious- 
ness. Then  he  remembered  and,  springing  up,  he 
inwardly  confronted  it.  "It  is  mine,"  he  said,  "I 
have  won  it !  I  will  keep  it  and  it  shall  grow  and  grow 
until  — "  but  he  would  not  build  too  far. 

Next  week  his  mother  and  sister  would  return. 
They  had  been  away  two  years.  His  sister  had  been 
studying  music  in  Berlin.  What  would  they  think  of 
his  marriage  ?  He  had  to  admit  that  he  did  not  know 
them  very  well,  for  he  had  been  away  from  home  for 
years  —  first  in  a  preparatory  school,  then  in  college. 
He  never  remembered  to  have  discussed  the  deep 
things  of  life  with  them.  His  mother  loved  her  chil- 
dren with  an  intensity  that  had  been  rather  trying  to 
him,  as  a  boy,  as  it  had  militated  against  freedom  of 
action  in  his  small-boy  episodes;  but  the  ideas  that 
were  the  springs  of  her  existence  he  did  not  know. 
She  was  handsome,  tall,  commanding,  and  his  sister 

70 


THE  MARRIAGE 

was  like  her  in  form  and  feature.  They  were  people 
to  be  deferred  to.  Now,  in  thinking  of  their  return, 
his  first  thought  was  of  the  beauty  and  dignity  they 
would  add  to  his  life;  his  second  thought  was,  how 
would  they  view  his  life  ?  They  were  entirely  ignorant 
of  the  tragedy.  Always  averse  to  giving  pain,  he  had 
written  them  no  word  of  it.  They  knew  that  he  had 
been  with  the  Bishop,  but  nothing  of  the  reason  of  his 
going,  nor  of  the  position  he  had  occupied.  His 
mother  had  commended  that  step  highly  and  his  sister 
had  written  in  a  humorous  vein,  asking  him  if  he  con- 
templated taking  orders. 

But  to-day  the  sun  shone  and  it  was  his  wedding 
day.  His  heart  bounded;  he  was  strong.  No  matter 
how  different  their  standards  might  be,  no  shadows 
should  dwell  beside  his  hearthstone;  no  trouble  should 
deepen  the  sacrificial  look  upon  that  young  girl's  face. 
It  was  his  to  see  to  that.  It  was  his  most  sacred  duty 
and  he  would  do  it. 

After  getting  his  breakfast  he  set  to  work  to  fill  the 
house  with  flowers.  There  were  long  branches  of 
orange  blossoms  from  the  trees  in  the  garden,  arm- 
fuls  of  calla  lilies  standing  in  their  beautiful  dignity 
likt;  queens,  and  plumosus  everywhere.  Then  he 
dressed  and  started  to  the  Bishop's. 

He  discerned  them  on  the  porch  as  he  entered  the 
grounds,  the  old  clergyman  in  an  arm-chair  and  the 
girl  at  his  feet  on  the  steps.  Well  did  he  know  the 
healing  balm  that  had  soothed  her  sick  brain  and  the 

71 


THE  DRAG-NET 

priestly  words  that  had  quieted  her  rebellious  heart, 
since  he  had  left  her  there.  He  thanked  his  stars  that 
he  had  thought  to  do  it. 

"So  you  didn't  quite  forget  us,  boy,"  called  the 
Bishop,  as  the  car  stopped  near  the  steps. 

Morello  laughed,  waving  his  hand  in  denial  as  he 
sprang  out. 

"  Get  your  hat  and  cloak,  my  dear,  and  we'll  be  off." 
the  prelate  said  to  the  girl,  who  was  vanishing  within 
the  house.  "I'll  go  with  you,  Morello.  I  have  to  go 
to  town  to-day,  worse  luck." 

"That's  good,  Father;  let  me  get  your  things;  I 
know  where  they  are";  and  Morello,  too,  disappeared 
within. 

He  went  straight  to  the  drawing-room.  She  was 
there,  standing  dazed  and  trembling,  her  cloak  half 
dragging  upon  the  floor,  at  her  side. 

He  stood  just  inside  the  door. 

"Please  don't  be  afraid  of  me,"  he  said  gently. 
"  Hasn't  the  Bishop  told  you  I  am  a  man  of  my  word  ?" 

"Yes,  oh  yes;  he  said  such  things  of  you  one  would 
think  you  hadn't  a  fault,  but  I  seem  to  do  such  strange 
things  and  they  are  all  so  at  enmity  with  my  soul.  I 
don't  understand;  perhaps  this  step,  too — " 

"Trust  the  Bishop's  judgment  and  mine,  dear  lady. 
I  pledge  — 

The  door  opened  and  the  Bishop  entered.  He  was 
impatient  to  be  gone.  The  young  man,  turning  to  him, 
went  on. 

72 


THE  MARRIAGE 

"  I  pledge  my  word  of  honor,  in  the  presence  of  this 
Bishop  of  the  Church,  that  all  I  have  promised  I  will 
fulfill  to  the  letter." 

"  My  child,  you  have  nothing  to  fear,"  said  the  old 
man  soothingly,  noticing  the  pallor  of  her  face.  "  If  I 
had  a  son  and  you  were  marrying  him,  I  could  not 
feel  that  you  were  in  safer  keeping." 

Morello  bent  upon  him  a  loving  look  and  the  girl 
commenced  putting  on  her  cloak  with  nervous  hands. 

"I  think,"  she  replied,  that  "God  has  put  me  in 
the  keeping  of  both  of  you." 

"That  is  just  it,  my  child,  and,  having  done  that,  in 
return,  you  must  try  to  get  back  to  happiness  just  as 
soon  as  you  can." 

She  shook  her  head  at  that,  but  finished  preparing 
for  the  ride,  while  the  young  man  brought  the  Bishop's 
coat,  hat  and  cane. 

They  left  the  parsonage  and  were  soon  at  the  license 
clerk's  desk,  where  she  gave  her  name  in  low  tones. 

"Alice  Dolores  Brookfield,  native  of  London,  Eng- 
land, aged  twenty-one  years." 

"Alice  Dolores,"  Morello  said  over  and  over  in  his 
mind,  while  the  clerk  was  writing.  "Alice  Dolores." 
It  was  a  sweet  name,  and  how  fitting. 

"What  shall  I  call  you?"  he  asked,  as  they  went 
down  the  steps. 

"Dolores,"  she  replied  quickly.  "Never  Alice,  oh, 
never  Alice,  please." 

"It  shall  be  Dolores,"  he  returned,  and  seeing  that 

73 


THE  DRAG-NET 

some  past  anguish  had  been  recalled  by  her  first  name, 
he  added,  "  Be  brave,  Dolores,  and  you  shall  soon  be 
back  in  the  pretty  bungalow  where  no  trouble  shall 
ever  come  to  you." 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  Why  was  he  doing 
all  this  for  her?  But  for  the  Bishop  he  should  never 
have  prevailed,  for  she  had  no  faith  in  any  man;  but 
the  Bishop  seemed  to  trust  him,  and  he  ought  to  know. 

There  was  not  much  time  to  think.  They  were 
soon  at  Justice  Albert's  office  and  it  took  but  a  few 
moments  for  the  ceremony.  It  was  over  almost  before 
they  knew  —  this  tie  which  should  be  so  binding,  but 
which  men  and  women  play  with  as  a  toy. 

"Shan't  we  get  some  lunch  while  we  are  here?" 
asked  Morello,  striving  with  all  his  might  to  keep  the 
rampant  joy  out  of  his  tones. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  let  us  get  back,  please,"  she  said  faintly. 

"Home,  then,  it  shall  be.  Home,  Dolores,  where 
you  will  learn  to  smile  again." 

He  drove  as  rapidly  as  it  was  safe  to  do  and  they 
were  soon  at  the  bungalow.  He  left  the  car  standing 
and  went  in  with  her.  He  wanted  to  see  if  she  were 
pleased. 

"He  unlocked  the  door  and,  throwing  it  wide,  said 
simply: 

"Welcome  home,  Dolores." 

She  saw  what  he  had  done,  even  before  she  was  in 
the  midst  of  that  bower  of  blossoms.  Her  low  sweet 
voice  was  broken  by  emotion  as  she  said : 

74 


THE  MARRIAGE 

"I'm  very  grateful  for  all  your  kindness,  believe  me; 
I  don't  know  why  you  have  done  this  for  me  —  I 
didn't  expect  anything  like  this.  I  —  I  am  not  the 
kind  of  bride  for  flowers." 

"Child,  why  may  we  not  have  flowers?  They 
belong  to  us  much  as  any  one,  perhaps  more,  perhaps 
more.  It  is  as  one  looks  at  it,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"Is  this,  this  to  be  my  room?"  she  asked,  indicating 
the  door  of  the  room  she  had  occupied. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  it  shall  be  refurnished.  It  is 
not  like  a  girl's  room  now.  I  put  those  heavy  pieces 
in  there  before  I  knew  —  for  myself." 

"Then  let  me  go  upstairs  and  you  keep  this." 

"  No,  no,  I  shall  go  above.  That  little  side  porch  all 
covered  with  wistaria,  and  the  French  windows  opening 
upon  it,  will  be  lovely  for  you;  and  we'll  enclose  the 
porch  with  screening  and  you  can  have  a  rug  and  table 
and  rocking-chair  and  be  alone  just  as  much  as  you 
like.  It  will  be  sacred  to  you.  Then  there's  any 
amount  of  sunshine,  any  number  of  birds,  and  —  yes, 
you  must  grow  happy  here  in  time,  Dolores." 

She  was  silent  a  moment.  It  seemed  an  effort  for 
her  to  speak.  Then  she  said  tremblingly. 

"  You  are  so  generous  that  I'm  sure  you  will  forgive 
me  if  I  say  that  nothing  interests  me,  yet.  Perhaps, 
in  time,  as  you  say,  I  suppose  it  is  an  aid  to  one,  the 
sunshine  and" — 

"It  is  our  best  friend,  child.  Now  I'll  go  and  put 
the  machine  in,  and  then  we'll  have  some  lunch." 

75 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  was  quite  boyish  in  his  happiness.  He  wanted 
to  throw  his  cap  in  the  air  and  catch  it. 

He  was  working  away  at  the  lunch,  burning  his 
fingers,  spilling  the  boiling  water  that  he  was  pouring 
over  the  tea  and  muttering  at  his  awkwardness,  when 
she  appeared  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Do  you  want  to  help,  Dolores  ?"  he  asked  gaily. 

"Yes.  Let  me  work,"  she  said,  approaching  the 
table  where  a  pan  of  eggs  seemed  awaiting  a  cook. 

"The  kitchen's  in  a  beastly  mess,"  he  laughed,  "but 
I'll  get  a  woman  in  to  clean  up  and  you  shall  have  a 
maid  when  we  can  find  one,  and  — " 

"No,  please  let  no  one  come.  The  Bishop  told  me 
to  work  hard,  that  it  was  best,  that  — " 

"But  you  are  not  built  for  rough  work,"  he  inter- 
rupted. 

"I  think  it  will  do  me  good,"  she  returned.  "I 
want  to  get  tired,  so  tired  that  I  must  sleep;  I  haven't 
slept  for  —  for  ages,  it  seems  to  me." 

He  looked  at  her  delicate  ringless  hands,  hands 
made,  it  seemed  to  him,  but  for  the  fine,  beautiful 
work  of  the  world,  and  then  it  came  upon  him  like  a 
shock  that  there  had  been  no  wedding  ring. 

"Dolores,  do  you  know  it  never  occurred  to  me  to 
buy  a  ring,"  he  stammered. 

"Why  should  you  for  such  a  marriage?"  she  asked. 

"Such  a  marriage?" 

"Yes,  a  make  believe,  just  to  protect  me  from  the 
world.  Oh,  now  that  I  am  away  from  the  Bishop,  it 

76 


THE  MARRIAGE 

seems  to  me  that  I  should  not  have  accepted  this  sacri- 
fice." She  sat  down,  taking  the  pan  of  eggs  in  her  lap, 
overcome  by  what  she  had  done. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  bending  serious  eyes  upon  her, 
"that  we  shall  have  to  bury  our  dead  past.  Both  of 
us  have  been  ignorant  and  wrong.  I  have  committed 
far  more  sin  than  you.  But  we  have  concealed  nothing 
and  we  have  iriped  the  slate  clean.  Let  us  live  in  the 
present  and  future;  what  say  you?" 

"I  can  try,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

"Then  never  speak  to  me  of  sacrifice  again,  please, 
for  there  has  been  none.  Now  for  lunch.  Shall  we 
eat  the  eggs  raw?"  he  asked  with  a  smile. 

She  arose  hastily.  "I  shall  do  better  after  awhile," 
she  said,  making  a  great  effort  to  think  of  the  food. 
"I  used  to  be  very  handy  at  home,  at  the  parsonage." 

"  Parsonage  ?     Is  your  father  a  clergyman,  Dolores  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Will  you  write  and  tell  him  the  fact  of  your  marriage 
and  of  your  new  name  —  Dolores  Morello,"  he  said 
gently,  "or  would  you  like  me  to  write  for  you  ?" 

"I — I  don't  know.  Some  day  we  will  talk  about  it. 
I  shall  be  able  to  judge  better  in  a  few  days,  I  hope," 
she  said. 

"All  right,"  he  assented.  "Is  everything  ready 
now?  Let  me  take  that  teapot  in.  We  must  have  a 
tea-cosy,  mustn't  we  ?  I  remember  my  mother's." 

He  busied  himself  taking  the  things  into  the  dining- 
room,  keeping  up  a  running  comment  on  everything 

77 


THE  DRAG-NET 

that  suggested  itself,  to  put  her  at  ease.  While  they 
were  at  the  table  he  told  her  of  his  mother  and  sister 
who  would  return  in  a  week's  time,  and  of  the  work  he 
was  projecting  for  the  improvement  of  penal  conditions. 

She  listened  quietly,  trying  to  eat  her  food,  as  he 
expected  her  to,  making  brief  replies,  when  directly 
addressed,  and  the  young  man  was  satisfied. 

"Now  for  the  dish-washing,"  he  cried  buoyantly,  as 
they  arose  from  the  table. 

"That  is  my  part;  I'll  take  charge  of  that,"  said  the 
young  girl. 

"And  won't  you  let  me  help  you?" 

"I  think  not,"  she  replied.  "I've  been  useless  long 
enough. " 

"It  shall  be  as  you  say,"  he  said,  adding,  "you  are 
mistress  here  now.  This  is  your  domain  and  you  are 
to  have  everything  just  as  you  want  it.  You  could  not 
please  me  better  than  by  not  liking  something  and 
wanting  it  changed." 

"  I  pray  that  even  that  may  come,"  she  returned. 

She  began  to  put  the  plates  together  and  Morello 
stood  looking  at  her,  foolishly,  feeling  that  he  ought  to 
be  working,  but  not  daring  to  do  so  since  she  had 
decided  against  his  help. 

Suddenly  a  thought  entered  his  mind  and,  in  his 
boyish  mood,  he  uttered  it  without  a  moment's  con- 
sideration. 

"But  your  clothes,  Dolores.  You  can't  work  in 
the  kitchen  in  that  dress." 

78 


THE  MARRIAGE 

Her  hands  began  to  tremble  so  that  she  almost 
dropped  the  dish  she  held.  Then  she  sat  down,  hiding 
her  flaming  face  in  her  hands. 

"Oh  what  I  have  done?"  cried  Morello,  angry  at 
himself  for  not  remembering.  "What  a  brute  I  am, 
poor  child." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  bent  lower  and  he  went  on 
quickly. 

"  I  know,  of  course,  Dolores,  but  that  does  not  mat- 
ter. I  am  very  particular  about  clothes,  and  I  have  a 
request  to  make.  I'm  not  going  to  be  tyrannical,  but 
if  you  can  agree  with  me  about  this  I  shall  be  so  glad. 
You  are  my  wife  now,  you  know,  and  I  want  to  see 
your  sweet  face  framed  in  white.  I  love  white.  I 
thought,  perhaps,  you  would  like  to  have  your  room 
done  in  white." 

Still  no  answer. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  a  full  purse  to-morrow ;  it  is  my 
privilege,  you  know,  and  I  want  you  to  select  a  pretty 
trousseau  for  yourself.  Will  you  do  this  to  please  me  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Thank  you.  Then  we'll  pack  that  black  one  away 
where  we  shall  never  see  it  again.  After  this  it  is  to  be 
white  and  blue  and  lavender,  the  beautiful  shades  of  all 
the  flowers,  for  we've  commenced  a  new  life,  Dolores. 
Now  I  won't  trouble  you  any  more.  I'll  go  and  work 
in  the  garden.  Forgive  me,  please,  and  just  tell  me 
when  I  don't  do  right,  will  you?" 


79 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BEGINNING  THE  WORK 

DOLORES  was  up  early  the  next  morning  and  Morello 
heard  her  moving  about  the  kitchen  as  he  lay  upon  his 
couch  in  the  library.  His  first  impulse  was  to  spring 
up  and  go  as  quickly  as  possible  to  her  aid,  but  after  a 
moment's  thought  he  decided  that  such  a  course,  at  the 
present,  was  not  the  best. 

"You  must  let  her  alone,  old  man,"  he  told  himself. 
"You  must  let  her  get  her  bearings  by  herself;  and  if 
you  hope  for  a  time  to  come  when  you  can  pay  court  to 
her  and  try  to  win  her  love,  you  must  be  very,  very 
patient.  It  would  be  a  good  thing  if  you  would  go  off 
for  the  whole  day." 

He  grumbled  inwardly  at  this,  but  felt  that  it  was  the 
best  way  and  determined  to  do  it.  He  would  go  to  the 
city  and  look  for  an  office.  He  wanted  a  man  to  help. 
Fenleigh  was  the  man,  for  he  had  always  sympathized 
with  him ;  he  would  look  Fenleigh  up  and  together  they 
would  start  in.  He  could  give  him  the  same  wages  he 
was  earning  on  the  force,  and,  having  been  there,  he 
would  be  invaluable  in  getting  at  the  heart  of  things 
lawful  and  judicial.  In  a  short  time  a  long  day's  work 
was  laid  out  in  his  mind,  so  he  arose,  bathed,  dressed, 
and  then  took  a  turn  in  the  garden. 

80 


BEGINNING  THE  WORK 

He  walked  around  to  the  kitchen  window  when  he 
could  wait  no  longer  and  called  out  gaily: 

"Dolores,  may  I  come  in  and  help  you ?" 

"You  may  come  in  to  breakfast,"  she  replied,  and 
he  knew  she  was  making  a  great  effort  to  speak  in  a 
kindly  tone. 

"Oh!  is  it  ready?  Well,  I'll  admit  that  things  go 
more  smoothly  for  you  than  for  me,"  he  said,  leaning 
in  at  the  window.  "Do  you  know  I've  half  a  dozen 
burns  on  my  hands  and  I  don't  believe  you  have  one." 

"No,  I  haven't  one,"  she  responded. 

He  went  in  then  and  there  was  toast  and  fruit  and 
cereal  and  the  table  was  laid  properly.  She  seated 
herself  before  the  coffee  urn,  too,  and  poured  his  coffee, 
which  delighted  him. 

"I  shall  be  away  the  whole  day,  if  you  don't  mind, 
for  I've  laid  out  a  tremendous  day's  work,"  he  said; 
then,  not  waiting  for  a  reply,  "  I  must  look  up  an  office 
and  hunt  up  Fenleigh,  a  man  on  whom  I  can  rely.  I 
think  I  shall  hire  him  immediately." 

"I  hope,  some  day,  I  can  help  you  with  that  work. 
It  is  needed,"  she  returned. 

"You  can,  I'm  sure  you  can,"  he  answered,  his 
heart  bounding  with  joy. 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  it  a  great  deal.  If  I  can  help 
others  in  that  way,  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  win  back — " 

"That  was  what  I  thought,  too,"  he  interrupted, 
"  but  that  is  only  a  part  of  the  reason  why  we  should  go 
into  it,  after  all.  Really,  the  smallest  part.  A  city  can 

81 


THE  DRAG-NET 

commit  a  crime  as  well  as  an  individual,  and  this  city 
is  committing  daily  one  of  the  colossal  crimes  of  the 
age.  And  the  people  don't  know  it." 

"It  will  be  a  tremendous  task  to  enlighten  them." 

"Indeed  it  will;  but  I  would  like  to  speak  to  you 
before  I  go,  about  the  furniture.  I  want  to  furnish  the 
rooms  upstairs.  You  know  I  only  put  in  the  house 
what  a  bachelor  would  need ;  so,  if  you  would  select  the 
things  you  would  like  for  your  own  room,  I'll  get  a 
man  and  a  woman  that  I  know  to  come  to-morrow, 
and  they  can  work  under  your  direction  and  put  those 
heavy  pieces  upstairs  in  the  front  room.  I'll  take  that 
for  mine,  but  I  would  like  you  to  buy  some  curtains 
for  me.  Will  you?" 

"  Certainly.  I  want  my  time  to  be  filled,  and  I'll  do 
anything  that  I  can. " 

"You  can  do  a  great  deal,  a  very  great  deal,"  he 
returned. 

When  breakfast  was  over  and  all  his  preparations 
made  to  go,  he  called  her  into  the  drawing-room. 
"Dolores,  in  this  little  drawer  here,  you  will  always 
find  what  money  you  want.  Don't  forget  the  pretty 
white  dresses,  will  you  ?" 

"No,  I  shall  bear  everything  in  mind,"  she  returned. 

"I'll  try  to  be  home  promptly  at  six." 

"And  I'll  try  to  have  dinner  ready." 

"Don't  work  too  hard,  please." 

"  There  is  no  danger  of  that. " 

"If  you  do  I  shall  engage  a  maid." 

m 


BEGINNING  THE  WORK 

"That  is  threat  enough  to  keep  me  from  it." 

"  And  —  and  be  sure  to  get  yourself  a  good  lunch 
and  eat  it,  will  you?" 

"No  more  orders  this  morning,  please." 

He  laughed.  "There  are  some  things  I  shall  be 
tyrannical  about,"  he  said. 

"I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  call  your  attention  to 
the  clock,"  she  answered. 

"A  very  broad  hint.  I'm  gone.  Good-morning, 
Dolores." 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Morello." 

"I  suppose  after  a  very  long  while  I  can  be  called 
Prentiss,  can't  I?" 

"I'll  see,"  she  answered,  taking  her  tray  of  dishes 
towards  the  kitchen. 

He  went  away  then,  happy  at  seeing  her  about 
those  feminine  duties. 

At  last  he  had  a  home  and  a  wife,  a  good  and  beau- 
tiful wife.  He  would  not  let  his  mind  dwell  on  what 
her  life  had  been  for  the  last  year.  He  was  sure  there 
had  been  a  net  woven  about  her  that  she  had  not  been 
able  to  escape  from  and  he  held  her  guiltless.  Every 
time  a  thought  of  Fane  Redding  came  into  his  mind  he 
thought  of  his  own  lapses  from  morality  during  his 
college  years.  These  he  knew  were  light,  indeed, 
compared  with  the  guilt  of  Redding's  lies,  deceptions 
and  broken  vows,  but  he  felt  that  he  must  not  think  of 
him  at  all,  if  he  could  help  it;  for  every  time  that  sleek 
countenance  came  into  his  mind,  he  felt  his  hands  upon 

83 


THE  DRAG-NET 

his  throat  and  pictured  himself  beating  the  creature 
into  insensibility.  This  was  not  what  he  had  marked 
out  for  himself.  For  many  reasons  there  must  be  no 
clash  between  them,  except  in  a  legal  way.  If  he  found 
rumors  that  he  had  heard  to  be  true,  that  Redding  and 
others  high  in  the  community  were  hand  in  glove  with 
all  the  grafters  and  intimidators  that  fattened  upon  the 
ignorant  and  unwary,  then  he  should  show  them  up 
with  all  the  rest  of  their  kind. 

He  found  Fenleigh  and  was  gratified  to  see  the  old 
man's  face  light  up  at  the  prospect  of  being  in  his 
employ. 

"I'll  come  as  soon  as  I  can,  lad,  you  may  be  sure. 
Gee,  but  the  wife  will  be  pleased.  She  never  did  like 
this  sort  of  thing." 

"Come  to-morrow,  if  you  can,  and  I'll  tell  you  my 
plans.  I'm  off  now  to  look  up  an  office.  I'll  drop  a 
note  to  your  house,  if  I  can't  reach  you  by  'phone,  to 
tell  you  where  I  am." 

"All  right;  to-morrow  it  is." 

A  suitable  office  was  not  difficult  to  find,  for  the  great 
towering  Tolman  building  was  but  recently  finished 
and  there  were  many  suites  unoccupied.  Then  the 
furniture  had  to  be  selected  and  put  in  and  different 
printing  establishments  to  be  visited. 

All  of  this  took  his  first  day  and  it  was  a  very  busy 
one. 

Now  and  then  through  the  day  he  stopped  a  moment 
to  tell  himself  that  he  was  a  married  man ;  that  a  woman 

84 


I 


BEGINNING  THE  WORK 

with  a  saintly  face  was  putting  his  house  in  order  at 
home  and  would  prepare  his  dinner  that  night.  He 
smiled  as  he  thought  of  it,  and  a  mighty  urge  toward 
all  things  good  and  high  thrilled  through  his  frame. 

Six  o'clock  found  him  at  home  and  ready  for  his 
dinner,  and  Dolores  stood  flushed  from  her  warm  exer- 
cise beside  her  chair,  waiting.  She  had  on  a  simple 
white  muslin  dress. 

As  he  looked  at  her  he  found  the  aloofness  that  he 
was  bound  in  honor  to  maintain  difficult;  but  it  must 
be  observed;  so,  though  he  felt  an  intense  desire  to 
break  out  into  extravagant  praise,  he  could  not  so 
wound  and  frighten  her.  He  contented  himself  with 
saying  quietly: 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you  in  white,  Dolores.  It 
seems  to  be  the  thing  for  a  woman  to  wear.  My  sister 
and  mother  used  to  be  fond  of  white." 

"Tell  me  about  your  sister,"  she  said  as  they  seated 
themselves. 

"Yes,  now  I  have  time,  I  will.  Oh,  by  the  way,  I 
did  a  tremendous  day's  work  to-day,  but  I'll  do  my 
boasting  about  that  later.  My  sister?  well,  she's  just 
about  your  size  and  she  has  beautiful  dark  hair  and 
blue  eyes.  We  all  have  that  style  of  beauty,"  he  said, 
laughing. 

"Where  did  they  live  in  Europe?"  she  asked  with 
interest. 

"Italy;  Rome  most  of  the  time.  And  oh,  she  can 
sing !"  he  exclaimed,  referring  to  his  sister. 

85 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"And  they  will  come  to  live  here?" 

"  For  a  few  days  only,  until  their  own  home  is  ready. 
It  has  been  rented  these  two  years,  so  it  will  have  to  be 
renovated  and  furnished.  Oh!  Constance  would  never 
be  contented  in  this  retreat,  for  long,  nor  would  Mother, 
for  that  matter." 

He  saw  that  she  made  an  effort  to  conceal  her  relief 
and  he  said  earnestly:  "No  one  shall  be  allowed  to 
stay  in  our  house  for  long,  Dolores.  This  quiet  spot  is 
dedicated  to  our  inmost  selves  and  here  we  must  live 
the  life  of  the  soul.  It  shall  never  be  broken  into, 
never  fear." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  do  what  I  can;  but  will — they — " 

He  surmised  her  thought  and  answered  it.  "They 
need  know  nothing  of  this  past  year.  I'm  glad  you 
have  asked  me,  so  that  I  can  tell  you  just  what  I  think 
best.  My  mother  and  sister  would  not  understand 
things,  if  explanations  were  made.  Experiences  such 
as  we  have  had  bring  the  real  uppermost  and  put  the 
sham  out  of  countenance.  People  who  have  lived  in 
soft  luxury  all  their  lives  are  very  apt  to  have  things 
upside  down  in  their  minds,  and  the  delusions  of  wealth 
and  station  appear  important,  you  know." 

"I'm  so  glad  of  the  prospect  of  being  alone,"  she 
answered,  "  but  I  shall  do  all  I  can  for  them  while  they 
are  here." 

"That  goes  without  saying.  It  belongs  to  you,  that 
attitude,"  he  returned,  gratified  by  her  interest.  Not 
once  since  his  first  glimpse  of  her,  as  the  turnkey  had 

86 


BEGINNING  THE  WORK 

unlocked  the  barred  door  to  give  her  freedom,  had  a 
word,  look  or  movement  jarred  upon  his  sense  of 
refinement  and  delicacy.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  to 
be  on  the  alert,  lest  his  coarser  nature  offend;  and  he 
knew  that  in  the  atmosphere  that  she  would  create,  in 
that  sweet  secluded  spot,  he  should  climb  to  heights  of 
morality  and  gentleness  that  he  had  not  touched  as  yet. 
"We  must  have  a  piano,"  he  announced;  "I  really 
hadn't  thought  of  that.  I'll  send  one  up  to-morrow. 
Are  you  musical,  Dolores?" 

"I  played  the  organ  in  our  church  at  home,"  she 
said,  bending  her  head  as  the  words  recalled  the  little 
ivy-covered  church  in  England. 

"Then  you  and  Constance  will  entertain  each  other 
splendidly.  She's  great,  in  church  music." 

"I  don't  seem  afraid  of  Constance,"  Dolores  re- 
marked, tentatively. 

"But  you  are  of  Mother?"  asked  Morello. 
"A  little,  yes;  I'm  afraid  of  her  —  a  great  deal,"  she 
replied,  her  eyes  filling. 

"But  she  will  love  you  dearly,  Dolores!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Before  she  knows,  perhaps,"  she  replied. 
"  She  will  never  know.  She  will  question,  of  course, 
not  dreaming  that  she  shouldn't;  but  you  can  answer 
her  questions.  You  are  an  English  clergyman's 
daughter.  You  came  over  with  acquaintances  and  I 
met  you  and  fell  in  —  I  met  you  and  gave  you  no  peace 
until  you  consented  to  marry  me.  I  even  got  Bishop 

87 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Woods  to  plead  my  cause.  What  could  be  more 
straightforward  and  truthful?"  he  asked. 

"I  hope  she  will  be  content  with  that." 

"She  must  be  content  with  that,"  he  returned. 
"Mother  is  very  ambitious  and  fashionable,  but  she 
has  Constance  to  look  after,  and  I  think,  if  I  know 
Constance  aright,  she  gives  Mother  enough  to  occupy 
her  attention." 

"Constance  is  a  favorite  name  of  mine.  I  have  a 
sister  of  that  name,"  said  the  young  girl. 

"Have  you  but  one  sister?" 

"I  have  three  sisters  and  one  little  brother,  who  is 
the  youngest  in  the  family." 

"Some  day,  years  hence,  when  we  have  done  some 
of  our  good  work  here,  Dolores,  we  will  go  over,  and 
you  shall  visit  them.  Time  will  have  worked  miracles, 
and  they'll  be  glad  to  see  us;  and,"  he  added,  as  he  saw 
her  changing  color,  "they'll  be  glad  to  see  you  happy, 
for  you  are  going  to  be  happy  here,  I'm  sure  of  it." 


88 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  TRAVELERS 

BISHOP  WOODS,  at  Morello's  request,  invited  Judge 
Sanford  and  five  other  men,  in  whom  he  had  the  great- 
est confidence,  to  meet  on  a  certain  evening  at  the  par- 
sonage, and  the  young  man  had  his  opportunity  to 
present  his  plans  for  educating  the  people  up  to  their 
responsibility  in  the  matter  of  the  treatment  of  prisoners. 

They  all  knew  Morello,  and  that  passage  in  his  life 
that  had  worked  the  transformation  in  him;  but  they 
did  not  know  he  had  enlightened  the  Bishop  nor  what 
the  connection  had  been  between  them;  so  the  prelate 
told  them,  plainly,  all  about  it  and  of  the  long  months 
of  preparation  for  this  work. 

"This  son  of  mine,  gentlemen,  is  just  the  man  for 
the  work,"  said  the  good  old  man.  "I  have  buckled 
on  his  sword  and  he  is  now  militant.  He  will  explain 
to  you  his  plan  of  battle." 

Morello  then  went  into  his  theme  with  heart  and 
brain;  and  so  intense  was  the  interest  that  it  was  a  late 
hour  before  they  separated,  each  promising  all  the 
assistance  in  his  power,  and  also  to  enlist  others. 

"When  is  the  first  number  of  the  paper  to  appear, 
Morello?"  asked  the  Bishop. 

"In  about  two  weeks;  and  I  want  a  short  article 

89 


THE  DRAG-NET 

from  you  and  one  from  Judge  Sanford  for  the  first 
number,"  with  an  intonation  of  certainty. 

"You  shall  have  it.  What's  your  telephone  num- 
ber?" Morello  gave  it,  then  asked:  "Bishop,  will  you 
be  treasurer  of  the  fund  ?" 

"Fund?    What  fund?" 

"Why,  the  fund  with  which  to  procure  good  council 
for  the  absolutely  penniless  prisoners.  I'm  going  to 
staft  that  fund,  and  it  will  be  published  in  the  very  first 
issue  of  the  Drag-Net." 

"I  won't  be  treasurer,  boy,"  said  the  Bishop,  "be- 
cause I  can't  take  on  any  more  duties;  but  I  think 
Dr.  Wade  would  act  in  that  capacity,  and  you  couldn't 
do  better,  as  he  is  highly  estimated,  and  rightly,  I'm 
sure." 

"I  suppose  I  can't  urge  you.  It  wouldn't  be  the 
thing,  I  know,  but  I'm  disappointed.  But  you'll  con- 
tribute?" 

"Willingly.  I'll  send  a  check  around  when  I  know 
to  whom  to  send  it.  How's  your  wife  ?" 

"  Getting  along  finely.  Each  day  I  see  improvement," 
replied  Morello  happily. 

"Work  hard?" 

"Too  hard.  She  won't  give  herself  time  to  think 
and  brood  over  things." 

"I  gave  her  those  orders.     Blessed  be  work." 

"  Well,  she  has  obeyed  you.  She  wears  white  dresses 
now,  Father,  at  my  request,  and  you  don't  know  how 
beautiful  she  is,"  the  young  man  returned. 

90 


THE  TRAVELERS 

"  But  it's  a  beauty  that  makes  me  sad,  boy.  It  has 
cost  her  too  much." 

"But  she'll  outgrow  the  memory  of  that  cost." 

"Never,"  answered  the  Bishop  with  decision.  "It 
has  seared  a  deep  scar  into  her  life.  Be  good  to  her  in 
the  finest,  highest  way,  son.  Let  a  man  try  to  undo  a 
little  of  that  which  a  man  has  done.  We  cannot  under- 
stand the  selflessness  of  a  good  woman's  love,  I  tell 
you,  we  cannot,  being  men!" 

"You  are  right.  We  cannot  understand.  But  I 
will  endeavor  to  make  her  forget,  at  least,"  returned 
Morello,  as  he  pressed  the  Bishop's  hand  in  parting. 

The  next  day  the  travelers  were  to  arrive. 

Dolores  had  been  busy  for  days  getting  their  rooms 
ready.  She  was  full  of  trepidation.  It  had  been  so 
restful  and  quiet — even  though  she  had  had  helpers 
about  the  heavy  work,  there  were  quiet  rooms,  and  the 
garden  was  always  a  sanctuary.  In  the  rose  pergola 
she  felt  as  though  in  a  cathedral  aisle,  and  she  knew  that 
peace  was  stealing  into  her  breast,  slowly,  it  was  true, 
but  filtering  in  through  the  beauties  around  her,  and 
her  sense  of  safety.  Would  it  last?  What  effect 
would  this  fashionable  mother  have  upon  the  young 
man  who  had  constituted  himself  her  lawful  protector  ? 
At  last  she  wearied  with  questioning  and  gave  herself 
up  to  waiting  and  hoping  that  their  presence  would  not 
tip  the  balance  towards  unrest. 

Everything  was  in  order.  Their  rooms  were  ready. 
The  bungalow  was  gay  with  blossoms  and  Dolores 

91 


THE  DRAG-NET 

walked  about,  scanning  every  little  arrangement  with 
the  eye  of  an  artist.  If  Morello's  mother  were  only  a 
quiet,  gentle  little  body,  but  she  had  seen  her  photo- 
graph, and  even  the  picture  proclaimed  loudly,  "I 
command  here!" 

Well,  she  could  command,  if  she  wished.     It  would 
be  but  a  week,  at  the  longest.     She  could  certainly 
give  way  to  all  she  wanted  that  length  of  time. 

Even  as  she  was  resolving  to  be  very  obedient,  she 
heard  them  coming  and  went  to  the  porch  to  welcome 
them. 

"Oh,  what  a  pretty  site  for  a  bungalow,"  Constance 
was  saying  gaily,  as  the  machine  drew  up  to  the  steps. 

Dolores  came  forward,  timid,  blushing,  anxious  and 
forcing  a  smile;  but  without  any  preliminaries  she 
found  herself  in  the  arms  of  Morello's  sister. 

"You  dear,  you  dear!"  exclaimed  that  enthusiastic 
young  woman.  "  You  are  prettier,  even,  than  he  said ! 
Oh,  I've  got  a  sister  at  last,  a  real  live  sister!"  and 
kisses  and  embraces  followed  fast  upon  her  words. 

Dolores  clung  to  her,  too,  the  first  woman  who  had 
called  her  sister  in  this  new  world.  Morello  looked  at 
them,  overjoyed  to  see  their  mutual  attraction.  The 
mother  stood  waiting. 

At  last  Constance  yielded  her  up  and  Madam 
Morello  came  forward  with  extended  hand.  She  gave 
her  a  long,  critical  look,  which  gradually  softened  into 
one  of  approval. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  kissing  the  young  girl's  fore- 

92 


THE  TRAVELERS 

head,  "you  are  as  beautiful  and  sweet  as  you  ought  to 
be,  to  be  Prentiss'  wife.  I  congratulate  you  on  be- 
coming a  Morello." 

Her  son  chimed  in  before  Dolores  had  time  to  reply. 

"I'm  the  one  to  be  congratulated,  Mother;  I  have 
the  best  of  the  bargain,  by  far." 

"Let  me  show  you  your  rooms,"  said  the  young 
wife,  anxious  to  escape  the  scrutiny  of  the  handsome 
and  overpowering  mother. 

So  they  ascended  the  wide  staircase  which  went  up 
from  the  far  end  of  the  living-room,  Constance  with 
her  arm  about  Dolores'  waist. 

The  mother  smiled  at  her  son,  observing  them. 
"They  are  of  the  same  type,"  she  said,  "though  one  is 
English  and  the  other  American  with  a  strain  of  Span- 
ish. We  visited  your  father's  relatives  in  Spain, 
Prentiss,  and  I  assure  you  they  are  grandees." 

"  I  hope  they  do  not  contemplate  a  visit  to  America," 
said  Morello,  looking  absurdly  anxious. 

The  mother  laughed.  "Indeed  they  do  not,"  she 
replied.  "They  have  no  such  idea;  they  were  genuinely 
surprised  that  we  were  at  all  civilized,  coming  from  the 
West,  too.  But  they  are  very  magnificent. " 

"So  long  as  they  do  not  intrude  their  magnificence 
upon  us,  I  don't  object,"  replied  the  son. 

"  You  must  visit  them  sometime,  you  and  your  wife. 
They  would  entertain  you  royally,  as  they  did  us,  when 
they  found  us  presentable.  It  was  really  amusing. " 

"  I  should  think  so.     Well,  this  is  your  room,  Mater." 

93 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  led  her  into  a  large,  cool  and  inviting  room. 
Constance  and  Dolores  were  chattering  in  the  adjoin- 
ing one;  at  least,  Constance  was  and  Dolores  replied 
whenever  necessary.  He  was  glad  his  sister  was  such 
a  chatterbox.  It  would  relieve  the  situation  immensely. 

"  Oh,  what  a  sweet,  restful  room!"  exclaimed  Madam 
Morello.  "She  certainly  has  good  taste,  Prentiss.  I 
noticed  how  everything  harmonized  downstairs.  But 
what  a  little  demure  mouse.  She  needs  just  a  touch 
more  of  spirit.  Now  Constance  — " 

"She's  perfect,  Mater,"  holding  up  his  finger  and 
shaking  it  affectionately  at  her,  "just  perfect;  and 
she's  complete,  needing  nothing,  not  even  spirit." 

The  mother  laughed.  "The  old  story,  the  blind 
god,"  she  returned.  "Well,  dear  son,  I'm  glad  it  is  so. 
But  I  do  wish  you  had  waited  our  return." 

"Couldn't,  I  absolutely  couldn't.  I  was  afraid  she 
would  vanish,"  replied  Morello  gaily. 

"Oh,  what  creatures  men  are:  but  I'll  forgive  you 
since  you  have  chosen  so  well.  Now  if  you  had  chosen 
some  obstreperous,  loud-talking,  hoydenish," — 

"But  I  couldn't,  Mother." 

"Of  course  you  couldn't,  with  your  inheritance  of 
culture  and  — " 

There  was  no  telling  how  long  she  would  continue, 
so  Morello  interrupted  her  gently. 

"Your  trunks  will  be  here  soon,  Mater,  and  you 
must  get  a  little  rest  before  they  come;  so  I'll  leave  you 
and  see  if  I  can  be  of  use  downstairs." 

94 


THE  TRAVELERS 

She  stood  looking  out  of  the  large  scenic  window  on 
the  west,  across  the  green  valley  to  the  mountains  upon 
the  other  side,  to  the  mountains  veiled  with  the  teeming 
mystery  of  distance. 

"Well,  Dolores,  the  great  meeting  has  taken  place 
and  it  is  as  I  said.  They  love  you,"  he  remarked. 

"I'm  greatly  drawn  to  Constance,"  returned  the 
young  girl.  "And  your  mother  is  very  magnificent, 
Mr.  Morello." 

"Yes,  she  is;  I  don't  think  she  knows  it,  though." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  please  her.  I  mean  to  try 
very  hard,"  smiling  wanly. 

"You  have  pleased  her.  She  has  expressed  herself 
upstairs  as  delighted  with  you  and  freely  forgave  me 
for  not  waiting  their  return  to  be  married  when  I  told 
her  I  simply  could  not  wait,  as  I  was  afraid  you  would 
vanish.  Please  don't  be  afraid,  Dolores." 

"Did  you  mention  the  dinner  hour?  Our  habits 
are  so  simple  it  will  be  hard  for  them  to  fall  into  them. " 

"Yes,  I  did;  but  you'll  have  Constance  down  here  to 
help  you  get  dinner.  It  will  be  great  fun  for  her. 
Didn't  the  maid  come?" 

"Yes;  and  she  seems  to  know  her  business  well." 

"That's  good;  everything  will  go  off  splendidly, 
you'll  see;  and  the  week  will  slip  by  rapidly  and  there 
are  no  more  to  come,  you  know." 

She  was  immediately  conscience-stricken.  She  had 
dreaded  this  invasion  and  she  knew  he  felt  it,  though 
making  such  splendid  allowance  for  her. 

95 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"I'm  glad  to  have  them  here,"  she  said  quickly; 
"glad  to  be  of  service  to  them.  I  know  I  can't  live 
entirely  out  of  sight  of  my  fellow  creatures,  as  I  would 
like  to,  so  I'm  glad  they  have  come." 

"It  will  really  take  you  out  of  yourself  and  do  you 
good,  Dolores." 

"Yes,  I  think  it  will;  Constance  is  very  lovable." 

"Isn't  she  a  stunning  girl?" 

"That's  a  good  adjective  for  her.  She  fills  you 
with  wonderment." 

"And  she's  generous  hearted.  She  always  cried  her 
eyes  out  when  I  got  punished  when  we  were  children." 

So  they  discussed  the  travelers  until  Constance  came 
upon  them  standing  in  the  window,  gazing  across  the 
valley  as  they  talked. 

"Now  if  I  come  upon  you  in  your  cooing  times," 
she  cried  gaily,  "you  mustn't  mind,  Dolores.  I'm  a 
sort  of  pervasive  mortal  and  I  shall  probably  pounce 
upon  you  just  at  the  sweetest  moment.  Prentiss  won't 
care,  I  know;  he'll  be  proud  that  he  has  a  bride  to  kiss. 
O,  you  dear  old  chum,  how  good  it  is  to  see  you  again!" 
She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  put  her  head 
upon  his  breast. 


96 


CHAPTER  X 
A  HARD  BLOW 

So  energetic  was  Madam  Morello  in  getting  her 
house  in  order  that  in  five  days  it  was  all  ready  for 
occupancy,  and  she  was  anxious  to  take  up  her  reign. 

It  had  needed  much  mental  agility  to  steer  clear  of 
the  rocks  and  shoals  that  seemed  constantly  ahead, 
through  her  questionings  and  assumptions,  but  Morello 's 
wit  and  Constance's  good-natured  loquacity  had  saved 
the  day,  and  the  five  days  had  passed  without  any 
disastrous  disclosures.  Dolores  made  it  a  point  to  talk 
of  her  family  and  her  music.  Madam  Morello  actually 
became  bored,  hearing  about  Tommy  Brookfield's 
boyish  escapades,  and,  when  it  became  too  evident, 
there  were  musical  events  in  England  to  turn  to.  This 
was  better,  for  the  consequential  lady  was  learned  in 
musical  matters  and  Dolores  soon  found  that  her  inter- 
est was  much  augmented  when  people  of  high  position 
were  mentioned. 

Constance's  settlement  was  the  thing  of  colossal  im- 
portance in  Madam  Morello 's  mind,  dominating  all 
else.  Next  to  that  came  her  son's  proper  establishment. 

She  was  glad,  since  the  marriage  had  taken  place, 
that  his  choice  had  fallen  upon  one  whom  she  could 
introduce  to  society.  Dolores  was  gentle,  lovely,  edu- 

97 


THE  DRAG-NET 

cated — indeed,  talented,  in  her  sympathetic  renderings 
of  the  music  poems  of  Chopin,  those  grand  symphonies 
of  Beethoven  and  the  dainty  ballads  of  Chaminade. 

She  only  needed  vivacity  of  manner  to  be  a  pure 
delight,  and  under  her  tutelage  she  should  acquire  this 
finishing  touch.  She  was  graciously  pleased  with  all 
Dolores'  efforts  to  make  her  comfortable  while  there. 

But  the  last  dinner  was  a  decided  failure.  The 
departure  impending,  she  spoke  more  plainly  than  she 
had  done  before  of  her  plans. 

"The  bungalow  is  a  very  sweet  place,  Prentiss;  but 
you  will  have  to  add  a  large  room  for  entertaining. 
That  north  side  would  be  just  the  place  and  you  could 
have  an  archway  cut  under  the  staircase  that  would  be 
lovely  or,  better  still,  you  could  build  a  pavilion  in  the 
garden  near  the  rose  pergola,"  she  exclaimed  enthusi- 
astically. "  Then  you  could  have  lovely  '  Fetes  Cham- 
petres."' 

"I'm  not  ready  for  those  things  and  shall  not  be  for 
a  long  time,  Mother,"  replied  Morello,  with  just  a 
touch  of  decision  in  his  voice. 

"  I  know  you  want  to  be  all  by  yourselves,  dears,  and 
that's  to  be  expected  in  the  newly  married;  but  society 
has  its  claims  and  they  mustn't  be  quite  ignored. 
When  we  are  all  settled  and  I  have  learned  of  all  the 
changes  that  have  taken  place  since  I  left  —  there  must 
be  many,  you  know  —  I'm  going  to  have  a  grand  recep- 
tion for  you.  It  shall  be  the  event  of  the  year,  I  promise 

you." 

98 


A  HARD  BLOW 

"That's  very  kind,  Mater,  but  wait,  wait,"  answered 
Morello  more  decisively  still. 

"I  don't  want  to  wait  too  long  for  that,  dear.  That 
must  be  the  very  first  entertainment  we  give.  I  must 
show  my  new  daughter  to  our  friends,  you  know." 

"  No,  Mother,  not  for  a  long  time.  I'll  tell  you  when 
I  should  like  that.  I've  marked  out  a  great  deal  of 
very  difficult  work,  and  I  must  give  my  attention  to 
that  for  some  time  to  come." 

"Now  that's  downright  selfish  of  you,  Prentiss," 
cried  Constance,  turning  indignant  eyes  upon  him. 

"You  can't  be  in  earnest,"  Madam  Morello  added. 

"I  am  very  earnest  about  this,  Mother.  Don't 
think  of  such  a  thing,  I  beg  you." 

"Prentiss,  I'm  astonished  at  you!"  exclaimed  his 
mother.  "Your  wife  will  never  get  into  society  if  some- 
thing is  not  done  to  present  her  to  the  best  people." 

"The  poor  little  mousey  shall  not  be  immured  here 
if  I  can  help  it!"  exclaimed  Constance.  "So  now,  sir, 
the  gauntlet  is  thrown  down!" 

Morello  laughed  with  much  pretense  at  heartiness. 
"Immured  is  good,"  he  said.  "  What  do  you  think  of 
'immured,'  Dolores?" 

"I'm  so  glad  to  be  'immured,'"  replied  Dolores, 
with  tact.  "We  always  lived  so  quietly  in  the  little 
parsonage  at  home  that  I  don't  miss  society  at  all." 

"I  do  wish,  Prentiss,  that  you  had  waited  for  our 
return,  as  Dolores  could  not  be  married  in  her  own 
home  or  church.  I  would  have  had  a  great  reception 

99 


THE  DRAG-NET 

after  the  church  ceremony.     I  like  a  church  ceremony." 

"What  church  were  you  married  in,  Mousey?  I 
suppose,  being  a  clergyman's  daughter  —  What  are 
you  doing,  Prentiss?  I  don't  want  any  more  lamb!" 

"Yes,  you  do.  You  are  not  eating  enough,  and  I 
know  it's  the  cooking.  Dolores,  she  doesn't  like  your 
cooking. " 

"You  can't  make  me  believe  that,  for  she  has  praised 
it  to  me,"  quickly  replied  Dolores,  though  her  voice  had 
a  suspicious  tremble  in  it. 

"Oh,  she's  a  deceitful  youngster.  I  remember  her 
of  old,"  responded  Morello,  throwing  a  teasing  glance 
at  his  sister. 

"I  suppose  you  will  be  recounting  all  my  old  sins  to 
Dolores,"  said  Constance,  laughing. 

"Yes,  all — and  then  some,"  replied  Morello. 

"They  won't  lose  anything  by  your  telling,  I'm  sure. 
But  never  mind,  my  boy,  I  shall  have  my  turn  now, 
and  I've  not  forgotten." 

Madam  Morello  had  waited  patiently.  She  had 
seen  the  ruse  and  a  most  uncomfortable  feeling  had 
taken  possession  of  her.  The  question  must  be  an- 
swered, so  she  waited  for  a  lull  in  the  badinage  to  repeat 
it. 

"Prentiss,  what  church  were  you  married  in?"  she 
asked,  looking  directly  at  him. 

"We  were  not  married  in  church,  Mother,"  he  an- 
swered, recognizing  the  impossibility  of  withholding 
the  information. 

100 


A  HARD  BLOW 

"Who  married  you  ?" 

"No  one  you  know,  I  think,  Mother.  His  name  is 
Smiley." 

"Were  you  married  in  the  parsonage?" 

"He  doesn't  live  in  the  parsonage.  He's  not  a  mar- 
ried man.  He  boards  and  we  were  married  in  his 
room  where  he  does  his  business.  Poor  fellow,  I  pity 
him.  I  pity  any  man  who  has  to  board.  It  was  dreary 
enough  for  me  when  I  came  back  from  Yale  and  had  to 
walk  past  our  old  home  and  see  strange  people  there. 
I  used  to  get  so  lonesome  I  did  walk  past  just  to  look 
at  it." 

"Were  you  really  so  lonesome  for  us,  Chummie?" 
asked  Constance,  her  tone  softening,  no  suspicion  of 
her  brother's  effort  to  change  the  conversation  having 
been  noticed  by  her. 

"  Indeed,  yes,  and  I'm  glad  to  have  you  back.  You'd 
better  take  cooking  lessons  from  Dolores,  Connie,  and 
then  cook  dinner  for  us  some  time." 

"  Oh,  I  will,  I  will !  That  will  be  splendid !  When  we 
get  our  car  I  shall  run  out  here  often.  I  know  all 
about  cars,  —  Mr.  Lyndhurst  taught  me." 

"Ha-/wj,  that's  a  new  name!"  exclaimed  Morello  in 
his  teasing  tone.  "Now,  pray,  who  may  Mr.  Lynd- 
hurst be?" 

"One  of  my  trailers,"  replied  Constance,  looking  at 
him  saucily. 

"The  Right  Honorable  William  Lyndhurst  will 
visit  us  this  coming  winter,"  Madam  Morello  informed 

101 


THE  DRAG-NET 

them,  adding:  "It  is  my  wish  that  Constance  favor 
his  suit." 

"Ho-/to,  miss!  The  cat's  out  of  the  bag  and  you 
never  told  us,"  exclaimed  her  brother. 

"All  in  the  right  time,  Chummie!" 

"Now,  Mother,  there's  your  opportunity!"  exclaimed 
Morello,  turning  to  the  dignified  lady.  "  There  will  be 
any  number  of  affairs  for  Constance  and  a  wedding  of 
the  largest  size  to  manage,  besides  your  clubs  and 
charities.  Do,  please,  let  us  vegetate  out  here  in  the 
wilds,  since  we  wish  to." 

"If  you  are  going  to  publish  a  paper,  as  you  say," 
responded  Madam  Morello,  severely,  "I  should  think 
it  of  the  very  first  importance  for  you  to  be  among  the 
best  people  and  for  your  wife  to  exert  her  power  to 
please,  too,  in  order  to  create  a  favorable  sentiment, 
and  to  get  good  press  notices." 

"I  don't  consider  it  necessary."  said  her  son. 

"But  it  is,  my  dear;  I  have  had  some  experience. 
You  remember  that  young  Miss  Columbine  who 
started  the  'Entre  Nous,'  Constance,"  appealing  to  her 
daughter.  "I  started  her  in  just  that  way.  I  took 
her  up  and  introduced  her  right  and  left,  always  with 
a  word  of  praise,  and  things  went  with  a  rush  from  the 
beginning.  You  see  the  best  people  subscribed  at 
once  and  she  got  more  exclusive  society  notices  than 
any  paper  in  the  city. 

"What's  to  be  the  name  of  your  paper?" 

"The  Drag-Net!" 

102 


A  HARD  BLOW 

"What?" 

"The  Drag-Net!" 

"And,  pray,  what  may  that  mean?"  asked  Madam 
Morello. 

"  To  me  it  means  the  invisible  network  that  the  city 
government  uses  to  entangle  the  unfortunate,"  an- 
swered Morello. 

"But  what  can  that  have  to  do  with  a  newspaper?" 
inquired  his  mother.  Then,  before  he  could  reply,  a 
thought  horrible  to  her  seized  upon  her  brain :  "  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me,  Prentiss,  that  you  are  one  of 
those  dreadful  socialists?" 

The  young  man  laughed  a  trifle  bitterly,  looking  at 
his  mother  with  a  wonder  that  softened  into  filial 
respect  in  a  moment. 

"The  programme  of  those  dreadful  socialists  doesn't 
wholly  appeal  to  me  as  yet.  Still,  they  advocate  many 
good  measures.  Just  now  I  am  taken  up,  heart  and 
soul,  with  work  for  the  reform  of  our  penal  institutions. " 

"But  you  are  not  going  to  publish  a  prison  paper?" 
she  cried,  with  deepening  concern  upon  her  face. 

"  I  would  hardly  call  it  that,  but  perhaps  one  might 
call  it  that  after  all.  I'm  going  to  make  an  outcry 
against  man's  inhumanity  to  man  that  must  be  heard 
by  every  one  with  the  feeling  of  humanity  in  his  breast. " 

"But  you'll  never  make  it  pay!  You  could  write 
articles  on  the  subject  for  other  papers.  It  will  never 
pay,  Prentiss!"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  don't  expect  it  to,"  he  replied. 

103 


THE  DRAG-NET 

*'  Then  why  not  publish  a  paper  that  will  pay  ?  You 
are  like  your  father,  boy;  he  was  always  dipping  into 
the  queerest  things." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Morello  fervently;  "then  I  come 
by  my  propensity  honestly;  I've  not  stolen  it." 

"I  had  designed  a  literary  life  for  you,"  Madam 
Morello  sighed,  "  but  not  on  such  lines  as  these.  Where 
under  the  sun  did  you  pick  up  such  ideas,  Prentiss?" 

"Right  here,  after  I  came  from  college." 

"But  you  haven't  started  it  yet?" 

"I've  been  collecting  and  writing  copy  for  my  first 
issue,  which  will  come  out  next  week.  It  is  to  be  a 
weekly  paper." 

"The  Drag-Net !  What  a  name!  And  won't  you 
have  even  one  society  column  in  it?"  she  asked. 

"Not  one,  Mother.  It  may  have  something  to  do 
with  society,  but  not  in  the  way  of  laudation  of  its 
social  functions,  I  can  tell  you,"  he  answered. 

"In  what  way,  then?"  she  inquired,  a  worse  dread 
wrinkling  her  forehead. 

"  In  the  way  of  uncovering  its  vices  and  crimes  which 
go  unpunished,"  he  returned  earnestly,  hoping  to  con- 
vey to  her  mind  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  his  work. 

"Then  you  intend  to  become  one  of  those  agitators 
who  are  continually  raking  up  things  and  turning 
things  bottomside  up.  Oh!  to  think  such  a  thing  as 
this  should  occur  in  my  family  —  my  only  son,  too, 
when  I  had  planned  that  you  should  write  on  Mediaeval 
Art.  Oh,  it's  too  dreadful,  Prentiss!  Why,  those 

104 


A  HARD  BLOW 

people  are  only  one  remove  from  the  anarchists !  Con- 
stance, my  salts.  But  no.  I'll  go  to  my  room." 

She  left  the  dining-room  with  all  the  appearances  of 
impending  hysteria  and  Constance  arose  with  her,  but 
turned  at  the  door  to  say: 

"Wait,  please,  till  I  come  back." 

"Well,  cara  mia,  the  blow  has  fallen,"  said  the 
young  man  to  Dolores. 

"But  it  is  not  the  hardest  blow  that  must  fall,"  the 
young  girl  replied,  with  trembling  lips. 

Morello  threw  up  his  head  and  drew  a  deep  breath, 
looking  at  her  intently,  as  he  asked: 

"  Dolores,  we  know  that  we  are  right,  don't  we  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  bravely. 

"Then  nothing  else  matters  much.  We'll  go  on  in 
our  own  way,"  he  said. 

And  again  she  responded  with  that  gentle  "yes," 
that  meant  so  much  to  him. 

"And  you  will  be  prepared,  if  what  you  fear  should 
happen,  to  stand  firmly  in  your  own  place  by  my  side, 
like  the  brave  little  girl  that  you  are?"  he  questioned. 

"Yes." 

His  eyes  filled  with  light  and  joy  as  he  looked  at  her, 
and  Constance,  returning,  caught  the  look  and  saw  the 
grief  and  confusion  in  Dolores'  face. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  she  began,  going  up 
to  Morello 's  chair.  "I'm  with  you,  Chummie." 

Morello  sprang  up  and,  taking  hold  of  his  sister,  held 
her  at  arm's  length,  looking  her  in  the  face. 

105 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"You,  Constance!"  he  cried. 

"Yes,  I'm  with  you  heart  and  soul!"  She  laughed, 
then,  and  the  tears  came  as  she  clung  to  him.  "I'm  so 
glad,  Chummie,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  didn't 
dare  to  let  Mother  know,  but  the  Right  Honorable 
William  Lyndhurst  believes  in  socialism  and  I'm  going 
to  marry  him.  Isn't  it  dreadful?  We're  a  horrid 
bunch,  aren't  we,  Chummie?" 

She  cried  on  his  shoulder  a  few  moments  and  he 
stroked  her  dark  hair  and  called  her  endearing  names. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  asked  helplessly. 

"Stick  to  your  colors,  dear,"  he  replied. 

"  But  it  seems  sneaking  to  let  her  go  on  being  so  glad, 
when  she  wouldn't,  if  she  knew,"  said  the  girl. 

"We'll  have  to  begin  an  educational  campaign,  I 
think,"  suggested  her  brother. 

"  Stony  ground,  Chummie,  and  the  Spanish  grandees 
aren't  all  to  blame,  either.  Mother  is  naturally  an 
aristocrat  of  the  deepest  dye";  then,  looking  comically 
at  Dolores,  she  exclaimed:  "We  came  over  in  the 
Mayflower,  you  know." 


106 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DRAG-NET 

MORELLO  was  delayed  a  little  in  producing  the  first 
number  of  his  paper.  The  scheme  grew  as  he  went 
into  it  and  he  found  a  far  greater  number  of  people 
interested  in  prison  reform  than  he  had  thought;  and, 
naturally  enough,  those  who  were  interested  were  the 
very  cream  of  the  city's  intellect  and  morality. 

Bishop  Woods,  Judge  Sanford  and  men  of  like 
caliber  were  heart  and  soul  with  the  young  man  in  his 
efforts  and  gave  him  many  suggestions. 

Whenever  the  project  of  a  new  jail  came  up  the  cry 
of  "no  money"  was  always  put  forth.  There  seemed 
to  be  plenty  of  money  for  other  things.  There  was  no 
lack  of  hospitals  for  the  repair  of  the  body,  no  lack  of 
schools  for  the  training  of  the  mind;  but  for  the  moral 
training  of  the  spiritually  deficient  there  were  abso- 
lutely no  facilities  whatever.  Moreover,  there  was 
something  worse  than  apathy  to  contend  with,  there 
was  hatred. 

"The  first  thing  to  do,"  said  Morello  to  Fenleigh, 
"is  to  place  the  blame  for  the  present  state  of  things. 
Then  the  people  must  be  told  how  the  money  must  be 
raised  as  well  as  the  great  need  for  decent  quarters." 

"That's  easy,"  returned  the  old  man  with  warmth; 

107 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"and  I  hope  you'll  explain  about  the  length  of  time 
they  keep  persons  arrested  on  suspicion  in  jail  before 
they  have  a  trial;  that's  what  makes  my  blood  boil! 
There's  one  man  been  there  for  fifteen  months  without 
a  trial,  and  four,  five,  six  and  seven  months  is  nothing. 
Yet,  let  any  one  of  us  have  to  stay  in  that  hole  one  night 
and  it  'ud  make  us  too  sick  to  hold  our  heads  up.  Talk 
about  Russia!  Better  talk  about  this  city!" 

Bishop  Woods,  upon  whom  they  were  calling,  and 
Morello  sat  with  heads  bent  as  the  man  went  on.  "  Last 
summer  they  lay  in  there  dying  with  the  heat,  yes,  some 
of  them  died,  they  were  so  thick  —  packed  together 
like  sardines  in  a  can!  God  in  Heaven!  It  liked  to 
made  me  crazy!" 

Fenleigh  had  been  an  officer  for  three  years  and  he 
knew  the  horrors  of  the  penal  system  well.  Morello 
knew  him  to  be  a  man  of  strict  personal  integrity,  and 
he  had  been  the  one  lone  man  in  the  city's  employ  to 
come  to  him  at  the  time  of  his  trouble  and  tell  him  he 
was  doing  right  to  resign,  and  to  beg  of  him  to  keep 
clear  of  the  whole  bad  business  in  future. 

"It's  almost  unbelievable,"  said  the  Bishop.  "But 
I  know,  Fenleigh,  you  are  telling  the  truth.  The  news- 
papers took  it  up,  you  know.  Why  cannot  people  see 
that  every  human  being,  whether  of  the  law-abiding  or 
the  law-breaking  class,  has  an  inalienable  right  to  just 
and  humane  treatment?  Indeed,  unjust  treatment 
would  do  far  less  harm  to  the  former  than  to  the  latter 
for  they  have  insight  and  stamina  enough  to  stand  up 

108 


THE  DRAG-NET 

under  it,  but  it  corrodes  and  eats  away  what  little  moral 
growth  there  may  be  generating  among  the  vicious 
tendencies  that  the  latter  have  not  yet  transcended." 

"You're  right,  Bishop,"  said  Morello.  "It's  that 
fundamental  truth  that  all  people  have  the  right  to 
humane  treatment  that  hasn't  percolated  through  the 
brains  of  the  public  yet.  They  seem  to  think  that 
if  a  man  commits  a  crime  he  forfeits  that  right." 

"I'm  afraid  they  do,"  returned  the  Bishop. 

"I  would  say  they  seem  to  think  that  any  man  who 
commits  a  crime  forfeits  that  right,  or  one  who  is  ac- 
cused of  a  crime,"  said  Fenleigh,  pertinently,  adding, 
"If  you'd  seen  the  number  of  men  that  I  have  seen — 
and  women,  too,  for  that  matter — who  are  never  even 
accused,  but  are  just  thrown  into  jail  and  kept  there 
for  a  time,  with  the  drunks  and  disorderlies,  the  burg- 
lars and  forgers,  who  never  know  why  they've  been 
arrested,  and  then  let  out  without  an  explanation  and 
without  any  remedy  for  it,  you'd  get  a  small  idea, 
Bishop,  about  our  civilization." 

"Why  should  not  a  city  or  state,  an  aggregation  of 
human  beings,  be  expected  to  express  in  its  acts  the 
same  honor  and  integrity  that  it  exacts  of  an  indi- 
vidual?" asked  Morello. 

"It  should,  boy,  it  should,"  said  the  old  Bishop, 
sorrowfully;  "I  will  say  further,  it  should  be  expected 
to  express  in  its  acts  a  greater  honor  and  integrity;  it 
should  have  a  higher  standard  than  it  exacts  of  the  indi- 
vidual, because  the  best  of  the  city  or  state  should  rule." 

109 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  But  it  does  things  all  the  time  that  it  makes  laws  to 
punish  people  for  doing,"  said  Fenleigh. 

"The  trouble  is,  the  best  people  don't  rule,"  Morello 
remarked. 

"From  Csesar  down  to  the  present  time  the  rulers 
are  they  who  love  power  for  power's  sake,"  said  the 
Bishop.  "  Now,  Morello,  what  is  your  first  issue  to  be 
devoted  to?" 

"  The  physical  well-being  of  the  prisoners,"  answered 
Morello,  looking  for  the  approval  which  came  into  the 
Bishop's  face. 

"That's  right!"  agreed  the  Bishop,  "that  rightly 
comes  first.  That  an  intelligent  community  can  inflict 
great  physical  wrongs  upon  their  brothers,  while  such 
wrongs  are  severely  punished  if  dealt  to  an  animal,  is 
one  of  the  most  amazing  anomalies  of  our  so-called 
civilization." 

"Yes,"  assented  Morello,  in  bitter  self -accusation. 
"If  a  brutal  driver  strikes  down  a  horse,  the  humane 
society  is  up  in  arms  directly  and  the  man  is  punished ; 
but  let  a  policeman  club  a  man  whom  he  wants  to 
arrest,  though  it  may  be  only  on  an  unfounded  sus- 
picion, and  not  a  word  is  said." 

"  If  a  private  family  lived  in  such  a  reeking  place  as 
the  city  jail,"  interjected  Fenleigh,  "the  health  officers 
would  give  them  a  few,  you  bet;  or  if  a  restaurant 
served  such  meals,  its  license  would  be  revoked  quick 
as  scat!" 

"  Your  part,  Bishop,  is  to  write  of  the  ethical  signifi- 

110 


THE  DRAG-NET 

cance  of  humane  treatment.  You  can  give  us  the  psy- 
chological argument.  It  belongs  to  you  and  will  have 
great  weight.  Judge  Sanford  will  give  us  his  views 
from  a  legal  standpoint  and  I  will  harp  upon  a  structure 
roomy  and  sanitary  enough  to  admit  of  work  and 
instruction,"  Morello  continued;  "and  here  is  a  receipt 
for  your  check  for  the  Council  Fund.  It  will  be  at  the 
top  of  the  column." 

"  You're  heartily  welcome,  boy,"  the  Bishop  returned ; 
and,  having  settled  all  points  satisfactorily,  they  re- 
turned to  Morello 's  own  office,  which  had  taken  on  an 
appearance  of  great  industry. 

Upon  approaching  the  bungalow  that  night  Morello 
heard  Constance's  rich  contralto  blending  with  Dolores' 
sympathetic  accompaniment.  The  last  strain  was 
ending  as  he  opened  the  door,  and  Dolores  arose,  the 
peaceful  look  in  her  face — the  gift  of  the  soul  of  music 
— filling  him  with  thankfulness. 

"  Oh,  it's  such  a  treat  to  come  out  here  and  have  a 
music  feast  with  Mousey!"  cried  Constance,  viva- 
ciously, patting  her  brother  on  the  cheek. 

"Stay  and  take  dinner  with  us,"  said  Dolores. 

"Couldn't  possibly,  thanks,"  answered  the  young 
girl.  "Mother  expects  me  and  there  are  to  be  some 
friends  with  us." 

"Then  come  to-morrow  and  take  dinner  with  us," 
said  Morello.  "  I  want  you  to  be  with  Dolores  as  much 
as  possible.  She's  such  a  little  home  body,  you'll  have 
to  seek  her." 

Ill 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"You  may  be  sure  I'll  seek  her,  Chummie,  but  I'm 
going  to  drag  her  out  of  her  shell,  too,"  looking  affec- 
tionately at  Dolores.  "She  wasn't  'born  to  blush  un- 
seen' and  all  the  rest  of  it,  my  dear  boy." 

"Put  the  dragging  off  for  awhile,  though,"  returned 
Morello.  "Give  her  time  to  get  acquainted  with  her 
flowers.  She's  been  working  to  get  the  house  in  order, 
almost  ever  since  she  came,  and  I'm  sure  she  wants  to 
get  out  into  the  garden,  don't  you,  Dolores?" 

"Indeed  I  do,  and  the  garden  needs  me  badly," 
answered  the  young  wife  quickly. 

"But  there's  a  human  garden  and  human  flowers 
needing  your  presence,  Mousey,  and  you  don't  know 
how  Mamma  and  I  are  just  crazy  to  see  you  in  evening 
dress!"  Then,  before  a  reply  could  be  made  to  this 
remark,  the  light-hearted  girl  wheeled  upon  her 
brother. 

"Prentiss,  you  never  can  guess  where  I  am  going 
to-morrow. " 

"Then  let  the  great  news  be  imparted." 

"  I'm  actually  going — going — to — sing — to  the — pris- 
oners in  the  jail!  There,  it's  out,"  jumping  up  and  down 
and  pressing  her  hands  together  tragically.  "  It  sends 
delicious,  creepy  shivers  up  and  down  my  spine!  Mrs. 
Sanford  asked  me  to  go  with  her.  She  says  my  voice 
has  the  sympathetic  quality  and  she  has  promised  to 
protect  me,  though  I  don't  know  how  she  could  if  they 
broke  loose  and  tried  to  murder  us." 

Morello  looked   hastily  toward   Dolores.     She  was 


THE  DRAG-NET 

arranging  the  sheets  of  music  upon  the  stand  and  her 
back  was  toward  them. 

"If  you  are  going  with  Mrs.  Sanford,  Constance, 
I'm  very  glad  you  are  going.  You'll  have  your  eyes 
opened,  dear,  to  some  things  and,  when  you  come 
again,  you  must  tell  us  your  impressions. " 

"Do  you  know  Mrs.  Sanford?" 

"Yes;  she  goes  regularly." 

"Well,  the  murderers,  thieves  and  burglars  have 
never  murdered  her,  have  they?  I  suppose  even  such 
creatures  can  feel  goodness  like  hers,  when  they  come 
in  contact  with  it."  Then  thoughtfully,  "It  must  be 
grand  to  have  the  quality  within  you  which  repels 
harm." 

"To  have  the  quality  within  you  that  attracts  love," 
corrected  her  brother. 


113 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  PRISONERS 

As  they  drew  near  the  city  jail  the  next  day,  Con- 
stance kept  close  to  Mrs.  Sanford. 

"The  very  sight  of  those  barred  windows  makes  me 
shudder,"  she  said  apprehensively. 

The  young  matron  smiled.  "They  are  formidable," 
she  replied. 

"Did  they  ever  try  to  do  anything  to  you,  those 
people,  Mrs.  Sanford?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  lady,  a  sad  look  dimming  the 
sweet  brightness  of  her  face. 

"Oh,  did  they?  What  did  they  try  to  do?"  asked 
the  girl  with  intense  earnestness. 

"  One  girl  in  there  kissed  me ;  another  cried  upon  my 
breast;  another  knelt  and  clasped  my  knees  and  begged 
me  to  pray  to  God  to  forgive  her." 

Constance  was  wide-eyed  with  astonishment.  "  Why, 
are  they  like  that?"  she  inquired.  "I  thought  they 
were  criminals  —  had  committed  crimes!" 

"And  what  is  crime,  dear?  Did  you  ever  think 
about  that  word  ?  The  people  inside  these  walls  are 
no  whit  different  from  the  people  outside — no  whit  dif- 
ferent from  the  people  outside ;  some  are  bad,  some  are 
good." 

114 


THE  PRISONERS 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Constance;  "why  should  the 
good  be  kept  behind  the  bars?" 

"They  shouldn't.  It's  a  fault  of  our  system,"  re- 
sponded Mrs.  Sanford. 

"But  how  can  they  be  kept  there  if  they  haven't 
committed  crimes?"  persisted  the  girl. 

"  Some  have  committed  crimes :  some  are  waiting  for 
their  hearings;  others  are  not  even  accused,  but  are 
only  suspected,"  explained  Mrs.  Sanford. 

"What  do  you  call  a  crime  ?"  questioned  Constance. 

"I  suppose,  technically,  it  is  an  infringement  of  the 
law  of  the  state,"  answered  the  lady,  "but  our  states 
have  different  laws;  and  what  is  lawful  in  one  state 
would  be  a  crime  in  another.  Just  think,"  she  added, 
"  how  many  criminals  there  were  at  the  time  of  the  War 
of  the  Rebellion.  Why!  All  our  American  patriots 
were  criminals.  Sometimes,  it  is  a  glorious  thing  to 
commit  a  crime!" 

"This  is  very  interesting,"  rejoined  the  girl,  "I'd 
like  to  hear  more,  but  we  are  here.  I'm  not  quite  so 
shivery  as  I  was." 

"But  don't  understand  me  to  mean  that  there  are 
no  bad  people  here,  Constance.  They  are,  many  of 
them,  deep  in  guilt,  sin,  crime,  call  it  what  you  will. 
Some  are  morally  at  death's  door — that  is  the  saddest 
part  of  it,  and  there  is  nothing  inside  these  walls  to  give 
them  one  bit  of  help.  If  they  were  stricken  with  an 
infectious  disease,  away  they  would  be  sent,  in  a  hurry, 
where  their  bodies  could  be  treated.  If  insanity  came 

115 


THE  DRAG-NET 

upon  them,  again  they  would  be  hurried  away  to  an 
asylum;  but  the  morally  diseased,  —  and  oh,  how  infec- 
tious such  disease  is  —  there  is  no  help  for  them,  here. 
There  is  neither  instruction  nor  occupation  nor  love. 
They  should  be  taught,  dear,  taught  —  helped  in  every 
way." 

Constance  had  no  time  to  reply,  for  they  were  in  the 
wide  entrance.  Opening  into  this  entrance,  from  the 
rear,  was  a  door  through  which  prisoners  were  brought 
from  the  patrol  wagon,  which  unloaded  its  human 
freight  in  the  alley.  Two  men  were  brought  in  by  a 
number  of  officers  as  the  women  entered  from  the  front. 
Mrs.  Sanford  went  on  in  a  business-like  way  and  the 
young  girl  kept  close  to  her;  but  she  saw  the  removal 
of  the  valuables  of  the  men,  which  were  handed  through 
a  small  square  window  to  the  property  clerk.  She 
caught  the  eye  of  one  of  the  offenders,  an  overgrown 
boy  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years,  and  he  dropped  his 
eyes,  flushing  deeply.  He  had  a  rather  pleasing  coun- 
tenance, but  the  other  man  looked  brutal  —  looked  the 
criminal  through  and  through. 

Even  before  the  women  were  allowed  entrance  the 
two  men  were  hustled  through  the  barred  gates  further 
along  the  hall  and  thrust  into  one  of  the  lower  tanks. 
Then  the  gates  were  again  unlocked  and  Mrs.  Sanford 
was  greeted  by  the  jailor  with  smiles  and  good-natured 
words.  Up  a  winding  stairway  they  went  until  they 
reached  another  corridor  and  at  the  end  of  that  was  a 
steel  door,  which  was  labelled  "Matron."  Here 


THE  PRISONERS 

Mrs.  Sanford  rang  the  bell  and  a  stout  woman  un- 
locked the  door  and  let  them  in.  When  they  were 
inside  she  locked  the  door  and  disappeared. 

The  dormitory  in  which  they  sat  had  but  one  window 
and  that  was  painted  over,  half-way  up,  so  that  the 
prisoners  had  no  outlook  whatever. 

Mrs.  Sanford  whispered  to  her  companion,  "Don't 
sit  on  the  cots,  Constance;  keep  away  from  them  if 
you  can." 

Constance  didn't  know  why,  but  she  obeyed  silently. 
The  odor  of  the  whole  building  was  so  offensive  that 
she  felt  herself  sickening  as  she  breathed  it. 

Mrs.  Sanford  knew  many  of  the  girls  and  women  and 
she  shook  hands  with  them,  calling  them  by  name. 
Then  she  asked  one  of  those  she  knew  to  present  her  to 
the  new-comers.  One  of  these,  a  bold-looking  girl, 
with  flaxen  curls  arranged  in  the  extreme  of  fashion, 
with  puffs  and  ringlets  and  bands,  tossed  her  head  and 
openly  sneered. 

"I  don't  want  no  introduction,"  she  giggled;  "I  ain't 
no  Christian  and  I  don't  want  to  be!" 

Mrs.  Sanford  met  the  girl's  predatory  gaze  with  per- 
fect equanimity.  "All  right,  I  never  try  to  force  any 
one  to  be  friendly  with  me,"  she  said  gently,  and  this 
reply  somewhat  abashed  the  ignorant  rudeness  of  the 
poor  creature,  and  the  defiant  look  faded  from  her 
face. 

Then  the  bag  of  grapes  Mrs.  Sanford  had  brought 
to  them  was  given  to  one  of  the  older  ones  who,  having 

117 


THE  DRAG-NET 

served  in  like  capacity  before,  passed  it  around,  and 
soon  they  were  all  seated  on  the  dirty  cots  eating  the 
grapes,  Mrs.  Sanford  and  Constance  on  chairs  in  the 
aisle,  and  they  were  listening  to  an  account  of  the  San 
Francisco  fire  and  earthquake.  Mrs.  Sanford  had 
been  through  that  wonderful  experience;  and  she 
related  it  to  them  with  great  feeling,  her  eyes  dimming 
and  her  voice  trembling  as  she  told  of  the  sights  she  had 
seen,  of  the  children  separated  from  their  parents,  of 
the  great  heroism  exhibited  and  the  awful  sorrows 
endured.  They  were  full  of  questions  and  plied  her 
with  them;  and  some  of  them  wept  bitterly.  There 
was  not  one  bit  of  preaching  done,  not  one  word  of 
cant  employed,  but  the  great  realities  of  life  and  death 
were  set  before  them  in  just  proportion,  and  without 
their  realizing  it,  sympathy  and  tenderness  were  upper- 
most in  every  mind,  even  in  the  mind  of  the  girl  who 
wouldn't  be  a  Christian. 

"I've  brought  my  friend  to  sing  to  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Sanford  at  last,  when  they  had  gathered  themselves 
together  a  little.  "She's  been  studying  music  in  Italy 
and  —  well,  I  won't  tell  you  what  I  think  of  her  voice. 
You  can  judge  for  yourselves." 

She  looked  at  Constance  who  knew,  then,  that  she 
was  expected  to  sing.  She  had  had  a  gay,  rollicking 
waltz  song  in  her  mind  that  she  had  intended  to  sing, 
but  some  way  it  would  not  come  after  that  talk;  instead, 
she  began  a  simple  peasant  song  of  mother-love  and 
hope,  and  she  felt  that  never  in  the  greatest  assemblies 

118 


THE  PRISONERS 

in  which  she  had  sung  had  her  voice  carried  the  wealth 
of  her  soul  to  her  hearers  as  it  did  there  in  that  jail. 

They  crowded  around  her  as  Mrs.  Sanford  arose, 
showing  that  her  visit  was  at  an  end,  thanking  her  for 
coming  to  see  them. 

"Won't  you  come  again  ?  There's  nothing  I  like  so 
much  as  singing,"  said  a  pale,  heavy-eyed  girl. 

"  I'll  try  to  come  again,"  answered  Constance.  "  How 
long  have  you  to  stay  here?" 

"One  hundred  days." 

"And  how  do  you  pass  the  time?" 

"We  don't  pass  it!  It  never  passes!  We  just  walk 
up  and  down  the  corridor.  If  we  had  something  to  do, 
it  might  pass,"  dejectedly. 

"Yes,  it's  horrible,"  responded  Constance,  wondering 
within  her  mind  if  that  sort  of  confinement  could  even- 
tuate in  anything  but  increased  bitterness  against  law 
and  those  responsible  for  the  present  state  of  things. 

They  went  out,  then,  the  matron  appearing,  to  unlock 
the  door,  as  they  all  thronged  out  of  the  dormitory. 

Constance  drew  a  deep  breath  as  they  reached  the 
street. 

"Are  you  clearing  your  lungs  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Sanford. 

"Yes,  they  need  it  after  that.  Oh,  it  is  horrible, 
horrible!" 

"Not  a  tenth  part  as  bad  as  the  men's  quarters." 

"How  do  they  live,  how  do  they  live ?" 

"I  don't  think  we  can  call  it  living;  they  exist,  those 
who  are  strong  enough." 

119 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"But,  Mrs.  Sanford,  I  don't  understand.  How  is  it 
possible  that  human  beings  can  be  thrust  into  a  place 
where  they  will  be  made  ill?" 

"They  couldn't  if  people  were  not  apathetic.  You 
knew  nothing  of  the  facts  until  I  brought  you  here. 
Others  know  nothing  of  the  facts.  How  many  women 
do  you  suppose  visit  the  jail  ?  I  know  of  only  about 
ten  in  such  a  large  city  as  this." 

"But  the  clergymen  —  why  don't  they  rouse  up  their 
hearers?" 

"You  have  me  there,  Constance.  It  is  a  question 
I've  asked  myself  many  times." 

"Don't  they  go  to  visit  the  imprisoned?" 

"When  they  are  sent  for,  I  suppose  they  do;  but  I've 
never  seen  one  going  or  coming  and  I've  been  visiting 
the  jails  for  years.  If  a  prisoner  were  very  ill  and  sent 
for  a  clergyman,  I  suppose  any  one  appealed  to  would 
go;  but  it  does  not  seem  to  be  one  of  their  regular 
duties,"  returned  the  young  matron. 

"Yet  they  claim  to  be  the  moral  physicians  of  the 
land,"  suggested  Constance. 

"Yes,  they  claim  to  be  that,  surely,"  assented  her 
companion.  "Well,  the  county  jail  is  in  far  better 
condition  than  the  city  jail.  You  won't  be  so  sickened 
by  the  odor.  They've  had  a  housecleaning  there  and 
everything  is  newly  painted.  That  was  a  good  selec- 
tion that  you  sang.  Suppose  you  repeat  it;  I  like  it." 

"Certainly  I  will.  I  could  not  sing  a  gay  song  after 
your  talk." 

120 


THE  PRISONERS 

The  walk  had  been  short  and  once  again  they  stood 
before  a  stone  pile  with  its  barred  windows  and  iron 
grating. 

This  time  they  went  up  to  the  women's  department 
in  an  elevator. 

"The  matron  here,"  informed  Mrs.  Sanford,  "is  of 
a  much  better  type.  They  could  not  get  a  better  one. 
She  is  motherly  and  so  kind-hearted.  They  all  call  her 
mother." 

Constance  saw  how  appropriate  the  title  was  as  she 
looked  into  her  face.  She  greeted  them  with  gladness 
and  they  were  soon  seated  in  her  pleasant  parlor. 

"Is  Marcia  here,  Mrs.  Jones?"  asked  Mrs.  Sanford. 

"Yes,  but  we  expect  her  to  be  called  for  any  time," 
assured  the  matron.  "I'll  tell  them  to  come  down." 

There  was  a  stairway  leading  up  into  the  woman's 
dormitory  and  presently  they  came  down.  There  were 
but  eight  of  them  confined.  One  was  a  sickly  girl  of 
eighteen,  awaiting  deportation  to  France. 

The  handshaking  was  general  and,  while  they  were 
being  seated,  Mrs.  Sanford  singled  out  a  beautiful  girl, 
whose  great  brown  eyes  and  wavy  hair  Constance 
found  very  fascinating. 

"Well,  Marcia,  I  read  the  news,"  Mrs.  Sanford  said, 
sadly. 

"Yes,  I  thought  you  would.  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you 
before  I  go." 

"Was  everything  done  that  could  be  done,  dear? 
Are  you  satisfied  with  your  trial?" 

121 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  Oh,  how  could  I  be,  when  the  verdict  was  for  con- 
viction? But,"  she  added  hastily.  "I  won't  think  of 
it,  now.  I  don't  want  to  have  any  bitterness  in  my 
mind.  I  fear  this  had  all  to  be  and  it  has  taught  me  so 
many  things.  I've  learned  so  much  here.  I've 
learned  how  serious  life  really  is,  and  —  and  when  I 
am  free  again,  the  world  will  be  a  very  different  place. 
I  shall  be  more  compassionate." 

Mrs.  Sanford's  eyes  filled  as  she  held  the  girl's  hands 
and  listened  to  her  brave  words. 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  door  and  the  matron  went 
into  the  corridor  to  see  who  was  there.  She  came  back 
in  an  instant. 

"They  have  come  for  you,  Marcia,"  she  said  sadly. 

"Without  giving  me  an  hour's  notice?"  cried  the 
young  girl. 

"  Yes,  dear,  the  officers  are  waiting  and  the  wagon  is 
ready  below,  they  say." 

"But  I  haven't  any  of  my  things  packed." 

"We'll  pack  your  few  things,  dearie,"  said  a  grey- 
haired  woman.  "You  stay  here." 

The  little  French  girl  threw  her  arms  around  Marcia 
and  broke  into  violent  weeping;  she  could  not  be  qui- 
eted. Constance  was  moved  to  say  to  her:  "You  are 
making  it  harder  for  her  to  go";  then,  as  there  was  no 
answer,  she  asked  one  of  the  others,  "Where  is  she 
going?" 

"Over  the  road,"  the  woman  answered. 

"Whereto?" 

122 


THE  PRISONERS 

"Where  to?  Why,  the  pen,  of  course,  the  state 
prison.  This  is  the  county  jail." 

"How  long  must  she  stay?"  whispered  Constance. 

"  She's  got  five  years  and  they  don't  take  off  the  year 
she's  been  waiting  here,  either." 

"Poor  thing!" 

"Poor  thing,  indeed!"  said  the  woman.  "You  may 
say  that.  She's  the  sweetest  girl  I  ever  saw!" 

Little  Victorine  was  inconsolable  and  Marcia  and 
Mrs.  Sanford  had  their  time  taken  trying  to  comfort 
her,  so  there  was  no  more  said  about  the  girl's  affairs. 
The  officers  were  fuming  and  all  was  bustle  for  the  few 
minutes  allowed  her  to  get  ready  for  a  five  years'  stay 
in  the  northern  prison. 

They  all  clung  to  her  with  the  greatest  tenderness 
and  she  kept  a  brave  smile  and  had  cheery  words  for 
every  one. 

"God  bless  you,  my  dear  child;  you've  been  such  a 
help  to  me,"  said  the  matron,  folding  her  in  her  arms. 

"  Mother,  I  shall  never  forget  how  you  comforted  me 
in  my  darkest  hours.  But  for  you  I  don't  know  what 
would  have  become  of  me." 

Then  turning  at  the  door  she  looked  around  at  the 
familiar  room.  "We  haven't  been  altogether  unhappy 
here,  have  we?  Victorine,  you'll  make  me  cry  if  you 
don't  stop.  There,  there,  child,  you'll  make  yourself 
ill.  All  of  you  write  a  few  lines  when  Mother  writes. 
Good-bye,  Mrs.  Sanford,  I  shall  remember  you  as  long 
as  I  live.  Good-bye,  good-bye." 

123 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Still  the  little  French  girl  clung  to  her,  but  the  officer 
stepped  up  and  took  her  hands  away  and  Marcia  has- 
tened on  before  him.  The  matron  unlocked  the  door 
and  they  were  gone. 

The  windows  of  the  room  where  they  were  overlooked 
the  street  and  the  window-sill  was  deep.  By  getting  on 
a  chair  one  could  climb  into  the  embrasure  and  look 
down  into  the  street.  Margaret,  another  of  the  girls, 
had  done  this  and  she  now  called  to  the  little  French 
girl,  who  had  buried  her  face  in  her  arms  upon  the 
table: 

"Victorine,  you  can  see  her  from  here;  come  up." 

The  girl  looked  up  and,  rushing  to  the  window, 
climbed  to  the  sill  and  pressed  her  face  against  the  bars. 

Marcia  had  evidently  looked  up  as  they  drove  away, 
for  little  Victorine  flung  kisses  to  her  frantically  and 
then  utterly  collapsed.  The  grey-haired  woman  kept 
her  from  falling  and  helped  her  down. 

"Take  her  to  the  dormitory,  Mrs.  Pierson,"  said  the 
matron,  and  the  woman  led  the  girl  out,  her  arm  about 
her  waist. 

"You  know,  Mrs.  Sanford,  Victorine  is  troubled 
with  insomnia,"  the  matron  exclaimed,  "and  Marcia 
has  taken  such  pains  to  help  her.  I've  known  of  her 
staying  up  with  her  for  hours,  rubbing  her  and  trying 
to  soothe  her  to  sleep.  She  has  been  invaluable  to  me 
and  has  been  such  a  fine  influence  here." 

"She's  the  most  unselfish  being  I  ever  saw,"  said 
Margaret. 

124 


THE  PRISONERS 

"And  she  cheered  us  up  all  the  time,"  said  another. 

"And  she  taught  us  lots  about  taking  care  of  our 
clothes."  So  on  they  talked  about  the  girl  that  "had 
got  five  years." 

When  there  was  a  semblance  of  quiet,  Mrs.  Sanford 
looked  toward  Constance,  who  shook  her  head,  and  she 
understood  then  that  this  scene  in  this  jail  interior  had 
so  worked  upon  the  sensibilities  of  the  sympathetic  girl 
that  singing  was  too  much  to  ask.  It  was  just  as  well ; 
the  atmosphere  was  electric  with  love  and  compassion 
for  their  convicted  sister.  Let  it  remain  so,  she  thought. 

After  a  little  talk  with  the  matron  about  the  needs  of 
some  of  the  women  in  the  way  of  clothes,  they  took 
their  departure. 

Constance  was  silent  for  some  time,  then  she  said 
impulsively:  "O,  Mrs.  Sanford,  what  must  you  think  of 
me  for  feeling  as  I  did  about  these  women  ?" 

"  It  was  quite  natural,  dear ;  no  one  knows  until  she 
comes  and  sees  for  herself,  that  they  are  just  like  the 
people  outside,  with  good  traits  and  bad  ones." 

"What  was  the  sweet  girl  convicted  of?" 

"Forgery." 

"Is  she  guilty?" 

"I  hope  not,  Constance." 

"  If  there  was  a  reasonable  doubt,  why  did  they  not 
forgive  and  let  her  go?"  Then  with  great  timidity 
and  a  flushed  face,  for  such  words  would  not  come 
readily  to  her  lips,  she  said :  "  Even  when  there  was  no 
doubt,  Christ  said,  'Go  and  sin  no  more.'  ' 

125 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Mrs.  Sanford  threw  the  girl  an  approving  glance  as 
she  replied: 

"Constance,  you  have  sounded  the  keynote  upon 
which  every  act  in  the  world  should  be  based.  Come 
again  with  me  and  learn  more  of  those  shut-in  sisters 
and  brothers  and,"  she  added  meaningly,  "give  your 
brother  your  moral  support." 


126 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  GREAT  BLOW  FALLS 

THE  next  six  weeks  passed  rapidly,  departing  into 
the  shoreless  sea  of  eternity,  and  were  no  more  to  be 
lived  through  or  sensed  in  any  way.  In  their  going 
they  had  brought  a  measure  of  peace  to  Dolores,  a 
measure  of  success  to  Morello,  a  measure  of  satisfaction 
to  Madam  Morello,  a  measure  of  understanding  to 
Constance. 

The  old  friends  Madam  Morello  had  found  had 
welcomed  her  warmly  and  had  praised  Constance, 
which  gladdened  her  soul.  They  said  little  of  her  son, 
but  this  was  natural.  Had  he  not  been  in  their  midst 
while  she  had  been  away  and  were  they  not  familiar 
with  his  every  act?  They  did  not  mention  his  wife, 
but,  again,  this  was  natural.  They  had  not  even  seen 
her.  The  young  bride  and  groom  had  been  privately 
married  and  had  hidden  themselves  out  in  the  hills, 
with  none  of  the  usual  conventional  observances,  and  it 
had  followed  that  they  had  been  unmolested  in  their 
privacy. 

It  would  all  have  been  different  if  she  had  been  at 
home  and  they  could  have  had  a  great  wedding;  but 
now  that  things  were  as  they  were,  it  only  remained  for 
Constance  and  herself  to  bring  forward  this  sweet, 

127 


THE  DRAG-NET 

young  English  girl  into  the  limelight  of  society  and 
society  would  promptly  tumble  head  over  heels  in  its 
wild  scramble  to  do  her  honor.  Constance  would  have 
her  successes  a  little  later  in  the  season,  when  the  Hon- 
orable William  Lyndhurst  appeared  upon  the  scene 
and  their  engagement  was  announced. 

The  mother  and  daughter  had  kept  all  their  plans  to 
themselves.  "Once  the  invitations  are  out,"  Madam 
Morello  had  said,  "there  will  be  no  help  for  it  and  they 
will  submit  with  a  good  grace.  It's  preposterous  to 
think  of  their  hiding  away  from  people  forever.  It's 
not  to  be  thought  of!" 

So  this  morning  they  were  seated  before  a  table 
strewn  with  writing  materials.  They  had  been  making 
lists  of  guests  and  remarking  them,  eliminating  and 
eliminating,  until  they  were  cut  down  to  the  desired 
length.  It  had  been  a  hard  task,  but,  with  heroism 
worthy  of  a  greater  cause,  they  had  kept  at  it,  until, 
with  a  sigh  of  triumph  and  relief,  Madam  Morello 
pronounced  the  work  good. 

Just  at  this  juncture  an  old  friend,  Mrs.  Rawley,  was 
announced. 

"What's  all  this,  Josephine?"  she  asked,  indicating 
the  lists  upon  the  table  with  a  comprehensive  glance. 

Madam  Morello  laughed  and  looked  at  Constance. 
"  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  tell,  as  we've  been  caught," 
she  remarked  to  her  daughter;  then,  turning  to  her 
friend:  "We've  been  making  out  a  list  of  guests  for  a 
large  reception." 

128 


THE  GREAT  BLOW  FALLS 

"Oh,  am  I  in  it?"  inquired  the  lady  with  the  famil- 
iarity of  long-standing  friendship. 

"What  an  absurd  question!"  cried  Constance,  and 
Madam  Morello  did  not  think  a  reply  to  that  necessary. 
Instead,  she  continued  to  pour  out  information,  now 
that  the  secret  was  out.  "It's  to  introduce  Prentiss' 
wife.  You  haven't  seen  her,  but  let  me  tell  you,  Julia, 
she's  about  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  way  of  girls  that 
I've  come  across  since  we  landed." 

"'Queen-rose  in  a  rosebud  garden  of  girls,'  that's 
sure,"  acquiesced  Constance,  who  had  been  a  frequent 
visitor  to  the  bungalow  and  whose  admiration  and 
love  for  Dolores  had  increased  with  every  visit. 

The  lady  had  become  rigid  and  a  blank  look  quickly 
succeeded  a  frightened  one  as  she  listened.  Then  she 
tried  to  turn  her  face  from  them  as  she  sank  into  a 
chair  and  busied  herself  with  her  veil.  But  the  excla- 
mation of  delight  they  had  looked  for  had  not  been 
forthcoming. 

"She's  not  a  brunette,"  continued  Madam  Morello, 
"  though  she  has  dark  brown,  wavy  hair,  —  such  beau- 
tiful hair.  All  she  has  to  do  is  to  toss  it  up  into  a  few 
folds  on  the  crown  of  her  head,  and  it's  a  crown  a  queen 
might  be  proud  of.  But  her  eyes  are  blue  and  yet  they 
are  not;  they  are  so  shadowy  that  they  look  more  of  a 
grayish  purple,  sometimes,  don't  they,  Constance?" 

"  Mother,  you  are  speaking  of  your  daughter-in-law," 
admonished  the  young  girl  smilingly;  "but  I'm  as  bad, 
Mrs.  Rawley.  Dolores  positively  makes  me  poetical." 

129 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Still  there  was  no  answer.  The  visitor  sat  with 
immobile  face,  looking  down  into  her  lap,  where  her 
hands  were  nervously  toying  with  her  gloves. 

"  Now  what  decoration  would  you  use  in  the  drawing- 
rooms,  Julia?"  asked  Madam  Morello. 

"Oh,  don't  consult  me,  pray,  you  know  I  have  no 
taste,"  was  the  hasty  reply. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Julia;  you  know  you've  excellent 
taste.  The  flowers  must  be  just  the  thing  for  Dolores, 
you  know,  as  the  reception  is  to  be  for  her.  Constance 
is  about  the  same  type,  too,  so  any  color  that  is  comple- 
mentary to  Dolores  will  just  suit  Constance.  Fortunate, 
isn't  it?" 

"Very,"  was  the  brief  assent. 

"Suggest  something,  Julia;  then  I'll  tell  you  what 
Constance  and  I  have  been  considering." 

"I  have  nothing  to  suggest,  I'm  sure,  Josephine," 
Mrs.  Rawley  replied,  forcing  a  weak  smile. 

The  perturbation  was  too  plainly  to  be  seen  in  the 
visitor's  countenance  now  and  the  mother  and  daughter 
were  compelled  to  take  cognizance  of  it. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Julia?  You  are  always 
full  of  splendid  ideas  about  decorations!"  exclaimed 
Madam  Morello  quickly. 

"But  my  head  is  barren  of  them,  this  morning,  I 
assure  you.  I  may  be  out  of  town  and  not  able  to 
come,"  came  the  rejoinder,  uninterestedly. 

"That's  strange,"  replied  Madam  Morello,  coldly, 
"when  you  don't  know  the  date." 

130 


THE  GREAT  BLOW  FALLS 

"I  supposed  you  would  give  us  the  usual  time,  dear," 
said  the  lady. 

"So  you  haven't  an  idea  as  to  the  flowers!  Well, 
daughter  and  I  have  thought  of  the  cosmos,  different 
colors  in  different  rooms;  'tisn't  so  hackneyed,  you 
know.  Do  you  think  that  would  be  pretty?" 

"Very  pretty,  indeed,"  then,  rising,  the  visitor  hastily 
started  to  put  on  her  gloves.  "  I'd  like  to  stay  and  talk 
it  over  with  you,  but  I  can't,  really.  I'd  forgotten  that 
I  had  an  appointment  with  Dr.  Barlow  this  morning. 
You'll  excuse  me,  I  know."  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  unlike  the  lady's  usual  voluble  interest. 

Madam  Morello  and  Constance  both  arose,  the 
former  with  blazing  eyes,  the  latter  with  trembling 
lips. 

"I  don't  think  I  can  excuse  you,  just  yet,  Julia.  I 
think  you  owe  me  an  explanation,  first,"  the  elder  lady 
said,  striving  to  keep  her  tones  even. 

The  visitor's  courage  fled.  Naturally  kind  and 
gentle,  the  situation  had  come  upon  her  so  unexpectedly 
that  she  had  not  been  equal  to  it.  That  Madam 
Morello,  up  to  this  day,  knew  nothing  of  Dolores'  life 
the  past  year  had  never  occurred  to  her.  She  believed 
Prentiss'  mother  had  been  won  over  to  forgiveness  by 
him;  had  rejoiced  that  it  was  so,  and  had  tactfully 
kept  the  girl  almost  out  of  the  conversation,  hitherto. 
But  this  attempt  to  force  her  upon  society  was  not  in 
good  taste.  She  couldn't  approve  of  it  and  had  not 
been  able  to  extricate  herself  without  giving  offense. 

131 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Julia,  I'm  very  sorry;  pray  forgive  me;  but  please, 
please  don't  think  of  giving  the  reception,  don't,"  she 
replied. 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  surely  you  know!" 

Madam  Morello's  eyes  took  on  a  steady  glitter  and 
her  voice  was  as  sharp  as  the  clank  of  metals  as  she 
levelled  her  glance  straight  at  the  lady's  countenance. 

"I  haven't  the  remotest  inkling  of  any  reason  why  I 
should  not  invite  the  best  people  of  this  city  to  meet  my 
son's  wife,"  she  said  emphatically. 

"They  wouldn't  come,  dear,"  returned  her  friend, 
pityingly. 

"They  wouldn't  come?  They  wouldn't  come  to  my 
reception?" 

"No,  they  wouldn't  come,  dear,  so  give  it  all  up." 

"Julia,  when  have  our  friends  and  acquaintances 
refused  to  come  when  I  have  bidden  them  to  my 
house?"  Madam  Morello  added  proudly. 

"Never,  Josephine.  They've  always  responded 
gladly  and  would  now  if  —  if  it  were  for  Constance." 

"  Then  it  is  Dolores  whom  they  would  not  pay  their 
respects  to  ?" 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  yes." 

"Poor  little  Mousey!  There  isn't  a  girl  in  the  city 
who  can  compare  with  her!"  exclaimed  Constance, 
indignantly. 

"Why  would  they  not?"  asked  Madam  Morello,  in 
a  compelling  voice. 

132 


THE  GREAT  BLOW  FALLS 

"You  must  excuse  me  from  further  discussion  of 
this.  It  is  very  painful  to  me,  Josephine." 

"  Painful  to  you,  to  you!  You  come  here  and  throw 
a  bomb  into  my  happy  home  and  complain  that  it  is 
painful  to  you.  But  you  mustn't  leave  this  house 
without  explaining  yourself  to  my  satisfaction,  unless 
you  intend  your  visit  to  be  final!"  Madam  Morello 
was  very  erect  and  imposing.  It  was  an  altogether 
new  experience  to  her.  Her  position  had  always  been 
unquestioned  in  her  circle,  and  her  long  stay  abroad 
had  strengthened  the  pride  that  was  the  basis  of  her 
character. 

"I  hope  you  won't  insist  upon  my  explaining, 
Josephine,"  said  Mrs.  Rawley  with  feeling.  "You 
know  of  old  that  it  is  not  my  nature  to  intrude  into  any 
one's  private  affairs." 

"  Unless  you  explain,  our  friendship  is  at  an  end !" 
insisted  Madam  Morello,  severely. 

"I  hate  people  who  tell  disagreeable  truths  in  the 
name  of  friendship!"  returned  the  lady. 

"Nevertheless,  in  this  instance,  it  becomes  necessary, 
that  is,  if  our  lifelong  friendship  is  anything  to  you." 

The  visitor  was  silent  a  moment,  considering,  then 
she  said,  turning  to  her  hostess: 

"Please  send  Constance  away  then." 

"I  would  prefer  to  have  her  stay.  She's  not  a  child, 
Julia,  and  it  will  save  repeating  it  to  her.  We  might 
as  well  be  seated  while  we  are  listening  to  this  wonderful 
disclosure,"  said  Madam  Morello,  scoffingly. 

133 


THE  DRAG-NET 

They  had  all  been  standing  aloof  as  they  talked,  but 
now  they  took  chairs  and  Mrs.  Rawley  began: 

"I  hope  you  will  believe  me  when  I  say  that  it  is 
painful  to  me,  painful  beyond  telling,  to  reveal  this  that 
you  are  forcing  me  to  reveal,  Josephine.  I  can't  under- 
stand how  you  can  have  escaped  knowing  so  long.  I 
don't  know  why  Prentiss  himself  did  not  tell  you;  he 
was  the  right  one  to  do  it."  The  lady  was  obviously 
ill  at  ease  and  disliked  the  task  thoroughly.  "Still," 
she  went  on,  "since  he  has  not  told  you,  perhaps  it  will 
be  less  of  a  blow  from  a  sympathetic  old  friend,  like 
myself,  than  from  another;  and  I  think  it  would  not  be 
the  right  thing  for  me  to  let  you  go  on  with  preparations 
for  this  reception  when  you  don't  know  the  circum- 
stances." 

Madam  Morello  was  impatient.  She  was  quivering 
with  anger  and  resentment. 

"Do  come  to  the  point!"  she  said  peremptorily 
"What  I  want  to  know  is  why  those  people  would  not 
come  to  this  reception." 

"Because,  because  —  O,  Josephine,  forgive  me;  be- 
cause Prentiss'  wife  is  not  of  our  class;  she,  she  —  was 
in  jail,  taken  from  a  notorious  house.  Oh,  don't,  dear, 
dear  friend!  Forgive  me,  forgive  me!" 

Madam  Morello  sat  an  instant  as  if  turned  to  stone, 
then  fell  forward  and  they  both  sprang  to  catch  her. 

"Go  into  her  room,  Mrs.  Rawley,  and  get  her  salts 
for  me,  and  telephone  for  Prentiss.  Hurry,  hurry!" 
said  Constance,  supporting  her  mother's  head. 

134 


"Yes,  dear"  —  the  lady  was  crying  bitterly  —  "yes, 
I  will,  and  please  forgive  me,"  she  was  saying  as  she 
left  the  room. 

Constance  was  not  in  tears,  but  she  was  filled  with 
an  anger  that  frightened  her  against  the  one  who,  first, 
through  malice,  perhaps  jealousy,  had  circulated  such 
a  preposterous  falsehood  as  this.  Oh,  poor  little 
Mousey,  she  thought  with  infinite  pity,  dear,  shrinking, 
beautiful  little  thing.  To  say  such  a  thing  of  her  as 
that !  What  would  Prentiss  do  when  he  heard  of  that  ? 
Instead  of  the  happy  reception  they  had  planned  there 
would  be  terrible  times. 

When  Mrs.  Rawley  returned  with  the  salts,  Madam 
Morello  was  reviving.  She  stood  helplessly  by,  not 
daring  to  touch  her  friend,  having  dealt  her  such  a  blow, 
until  Constance  noticed  her. 

"Please  go  now,  Mrs.  Rawley,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
know  whether  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  forgive  you  for 
repeating  and  believing  such  a  deadly,  malicious  false- 
hood. At  your  time  of  life  you  ought  to  know  better." 

The  lady  turned  away  without  a  word  and  with  an 
utterly  crushed  mien.  In  a  moment  they  heard  the 
door  close  upon  her. 

"I'll  go  to  my  room,  Constance,"  said  Madam 
Morello,  faintly,  and  the  young  girl  supported  her 
there.  Her  fine,  erect  poise  was  all  gone,  and  she 
walked  as  after  a  long  illness. 

"Mother  darling,  don't  take  it  so  hard.  Prentiss 
will  run  this  thing  down,  you'll  see!"  comforted  Con- 

135 


THE  DRAG-NET 

stance,  as  she  assisted  her  to  her  bed;  but  the  elderly 
lady  only  gave  her  a  glance  of  utmost  pity  and  closed 
her  eyes.  That  Mrs.  Rawley  had  told  the  truth,  she 
knew,  as  soon  as  she  heard  the  words. 

It  explained  the  unusual  attitude  Prentiss  and 
Dolores  had  maintained  towards  the  world.  It  ex- 
plained, she  thought,  the  nature  of  the  paper  he  was 
publishing,  also  their  very  hasty  wedding. 

"Go  and  telephone  for  Prentiss,  dear,"  she  said. 

"Mrs.  Rawley  did  that  before  she  went,  Mother. 
He'll  be  here  in  a  few  minutes  now.  You  — you  don't 
credit  such  a  thing  as  this  story,  Mother,  surely?" 

"  I  must  hear  what  Prentiss  has  to  say. " 

"  There  isn't  a  word  of  truth  in  it,  I  can  tell  you  that," 
Constance  maintained. 

"Julia  isn't  given  to  repeating  idle  tales  or  lying," 
moaned  Madam  Morello. 

"Oh,  I  won't  believe  it,  Mother.  It's  too  horrible!" 
cried  the  young  girl. 

"Go  out  now,  dear,  and  watch  for  Prentiss." 

"Yes,  I  will,  but  don't  let  yourself  believe  it  unless 
he  tells  you  it's  true,  Mother." 

" I'll  wait,  I'll  wait!     Go,  dear,  and  leave  me  alone!" 

Constance  went  out  then  and  took  up  her  station 
where  she  could  command  the  entrance.  She  had  not 
long  to  wait.  Her  brother  came  swinging  buoyantly 
along.  He  was  very  happy.  All  was  going  so  well 
with  him.  First  and  foremost,  Dolores'  sweet  face  was 
losing  its  sadness;  her  voice,  even,  had  a  note  of  glad- 

136 


THE  GREAT  BLOW  FALLS 

ness  now  and  then,  and  he  knew  that  kindly  old  Time, 
the  surest  physician  of  all,  was  dulling  the  sharp  edge 
of  her  despair.  Then,  the  paper  had  taken  well. 
There  was  not  a  reputable  firm  in  the  city  that  had  not 
subscribed  for  it,  and  the  fund  for  good  counsel  for  the 
penniless  unfortunates  was  growing.  He  had  added 
many  features,  some  of  which  had  been  suggested  by 
Dolores. 

His  gaiety  fled  when  he  saw  his  sister's  expression. 

"What  can  be  the  matter,  Constance,  to  make  you 
look  like  that?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  Chummie,  it's  so  awful  I  can't  tell  you,"  she 
cried,  flinging  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"Poor  itty  sing,"  he  babied  her.  "Has  her  Hon. 
Billy-" 

"Don't,  oh,  don't,  Prentiss!  It's  nothing  to  joke 
about.  Mother  is  in  her  room;  you  must  have  an 
interview  with  her,  a  terrible  interview." 

"  Interview  ?  did  you  say  interview  ?  If  it's  an  inter- 
view, it  must  be  terrible,"  he  said  lightly,  though  a 
great  dread  was  settling  upon  his  heart. 

"Go  in  now,  Chummie,  and  remember  I  don't 
believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Constance,  pushing  him 
gently  towards  the  door. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  crushed  her  to  him, 
this  dear  sister,  so  wholly  innocent  and  generous.  For 
one  brief  instant  the  thing  that  he  had  done  seemed 
monstrous  because  of  these  two  who  would  suffer.  His 
sin  loomed  up  very  great  before  him,  and  he,  pitiful 

137 


THE  DRAG-NET 

creature  that  he  was,  shrank  to  nothing  beside  it.  But 
it  was  only  for  an  instant.  Even  as  he  realized  the 
permeating  hatefulness  of  sin,  there  followed  a  swift 
vision  of  the  emerged  soul  rising  clean  from  the  black- 
ened ruins  of  a  transcended  past  and  he  squared  his 
shoulders  and  threw  up  his  head.  They  must  be  made 
to  know  and  see  this  possibility;  for  it  is  the  only  lens 
through  which  life  may  be  looked  at  truly. 

He  knocked  gently  at  his  mother's  door  and  then 
entered.  He  was  not  prepared  for  the  white  agony  of 
her  face. 

"Mother!"  he  cried,  going  up  with  extended  arms  to 
her  bed. 

She  motioned  him  away,  rising  unaided,  and  seating 
herself  in  an  arm-chair.  He  stood  before  her,  knowing 
then  what  she  had  heard.  His  sonship  made  him 
shrink  from  the  truth ;  his  manhood  bade  him  acknowl- 
edge it.  He  resolved  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 

It  required  an  effort  for  her  to  begin;  and  when  she 
did,  it  was  with  an  incisive  brevity  he  was  entirely 
unfamiliar  with: 

"Julia  Rawley  came  here  this  morning  and  told  me 
that  you  found  your  wife  in  jail.  That  she  had  been 
arrested  in  a  notorious  house.  I  will  have  the  truth 
from  you.  Is  it  true  ?" 

"Let  me  tell  you  all  the  circumstances,  Mother." 

"Is  it  true  or  not ?     I  want  but  one  word." 

"Those  are  the  outward  facts,  only  the  outward 
facts,  Mother." 

138 


THE  GREAT  BLOW  FALLS 

"They  are  enough;  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more. 
Go,  now,  I  will  send  for  you  if  I  can  ever  bring  myself 
to  see  you  again." 

"Mother!  Surely  you  won't  send  me  away  without 
allowing  a  word  of  explanation  ?" 

"Go!  You  have  given  me  my  death  blow  —  it  is 
enough." 


139 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN  UNWELCOME  AVOWAL 

CONSTANCE  was  waiting  for  him  as  he  came  with 
bowed  head  from  their  mother's  room.  She  couldn't 
bear  to  see  the  pain  in  his  face  and  clung  to  him,  saying 
brokenly: 

"  I  knew  how  horrified  such  a  story  would  make  you 
feel;  but  we  had  to  let  you  know,  Chummie.  We 
couldn't — that  is,  you  are  the  one  to  trace  it  to  its  source 
and  stop  it." 

He  held  her  pretty  head  against  his  breast.  She  was 
so  gentle  and  pure-souled. 

"Constance,  you  are  a  woman  now  and  old  enough 
to  know  good  from  evil,  old  enough  to  penetrate  into 
the  heart  of  things,  too,  and  to  distinguish  between  a 
noble  soul  overwhelmed  by  misfortune  and  an  ignoble 
one  satisfied  with  the  same  misfortune.  Dear  Mother 
wouldn't  allow  me  to  explain  and  I'm  not  in  a  state 
now  to  explain  to  you;  but  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
not  to  condemn,  unheard,  one  of  the  noblest  souls  I 
have  ever  known,  Dolores." 

"But  it  isn't  true,  Prentiss,  it  isn't  true?  Oh,  tell 
me  it  isn't  true,  —  what  that  woman  said!" 

"Nothing  bad  that  is  said  of  her  is  true,  dear,"  he 
answered  tenderly,  "  but  she  has  been  overwhelmed  by 

140 


AN  UNWELCOME  AVOWAL 

misfortune.  Her  very  virtues,  her  faith,  trust,  love, 
led  her  into  troubles  that  a  hard,  calculating,  selfish 
woman  would  never  get  into.  I  have  the  greatest 
respect,  as  well  as  love,  for  Dolores,  Constance." 

"O  Chummie,  Chummie!"  was  all  the  girl  could 
cry,  a  dread  that  she  had  not  had  before  slowly  clutch- 
ing her  in  its  cold  grasp. 

"  I  must  go  now,  dear.  Go  in  and  comfort  Mother 
if  you  can,"  he  said,  kissing  her  bright  hair  and  releasing 
her. 

His  sister's  face  haunted  him  as  he  made  his  way 
home  that  night,  even  more  than  his  mother's.  There 
had  been  wonder,  doubt,  horror,  expressed  in  her 
appealing  look  as  he  had  gone  from  her  presence. 
Things  were  touching  her  life,  he  knew,  that  she  had 
always  thought  belonged  to  a  different  realm,  a  different 
people.  How  would  she  bear  it?  What  would  it 
bring  uppermost  from  the  depths  of  her  nature?  the 
resentment  of  hurt  pride  or  the  sweet  forgiveness  of  an 
innate  righteousness? 

He  was  late  getting  home,  for  his  work  had  been 
delayed  and  it  had  begun  to  rain. 

He  went  around  to  the  rear  entrance  and  up  a  back 
stairway  to  his  room,  where  the  wet  clothes  were  ex- 
changed and  then,  in  slippers  and  house  jacket  —  for 
they  were  not  ceremonious  when  alone  —  he  appeared 
in  the  dining-room. 

"I'm  late,  Dolores.  I  hope  waiting  has  not  spoiled 
your  nice  dinner,"  he  remarked. 

141 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  Being  late  to  dinner  always  brings  its  own  punish- 
ment, you  know,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  I'm  not  a  rigid  epicurean,  so  I  think  I  can 
stand  it;  but  it  punishes  you,  too." 

He  was  unusually  silent  during  the  meal  and  Dolores 
noticed  it.  She  had  wondered  how  long  it  would  be 
before  gossip  would  carry  the  tale  of  her  woes  to  the 
mother  and  sister.  Each  night  when  he  returned  she 
knew  by  the  brightness  of  his  face  that  all  was  well. 
Still,  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  it  would 
always  remain  hidden,  the  blow  that  the  disintegrative 
forces  of  nature  would  find  a  means  to  deliver. 

When  the  time  came  she  knew  she  would  see  the 
blight  in  the  face  of  this  man,  this  heroic  gentleman, 
who  had  given  her  his  name  for  her  safety  and  protec- 
tion from  the  world. 

He  tried  hard  to  be  as  pleasant  as  usual  that  night, 
but  there  were  moments  when  he  forgot  that  he  was  at 
dinner;  and  his  eye  sought  the  far  side  of  the  room  as 
some  absorbing  thought  took  possession  of  his  brain, 
and  when  he  spoke  to  her  there  was  infinite  pity  in  his 
voice.  She  knew  then  that  what  she  had  dreaded  had 
come. 

But  she  did  not  speak  of  it  until  the  meal  was  over 
and  they  were  in  the  drawing-room.  There  was  a 
glowing  fire  in  the  wide  grate  and  it  seemed  doubly 
comfortable,  for  by  this  time  the  storm  was  raging  out- 
side. 

"Isn't  this  jolly,   though!"  Morello  exclaimed,   in 

142 


AN  UNWELCOME  AVOWAL 

anything  but  a  jolly  voice,  as  he  drew  his  arm-chair  up 
to  the  fire.  "California  does  give  us  a  small  part  of 
the  year  for  this  enjoyment,  doesn't  she?  Won't  you 
sit  down  and  enjoy  it  with  me,  Dolores?"  he  asked,  as 
she  was  standing  doubtfully  beside  a  chair. 

She  sat  down,  then,  looking  wistfully  into  the  glowing 
coals.  The  tranquil  life  in  the  pretty  bungalow  —  she 
had  learned  to  love  it  so;  but  was  it  rightfully  hers  if  it 
separated  him  in  any  way  from  his  mother  and  sister  ? 
Would  it  not  be  heaping  injury  upon  them  for  her  to 
remain  here,  a  disgrace  and  a  reproach  to  them  ? 

A  silence  had  fallen ;  not  the  silence  of  perfect  under- 
standing and  unity  of  thought,  but  of  constraint. 

"Mr.  Morello,"  she  began  timidly.    "Mr.  Morello— 

"Oh,  come  now,  please  say  Prentiss,  just  once, 
won't  you,  Dolores?"  he  interrupted. 

She  shook  her  head.  "Not  just  yet,"  she  replied. 
"I  think  something  is  troubling  you  to-night.  They 
have  heard  about  me.  I  feel  sure  of  it." 

He  started,  wondering  how  he  had  betrayed  himself. 
He  had  not  intended  talking  about  it  until  morning, 
knowing  how  it  would  affect  her. 

"Please  let  me  know  what  has  happened.  I  must 
know,"  she  insisted  gently. 

"  Yes,  Dolores,  they  have  heard.  They  sent  for  me. 
I  did  not  deny  the  bare  facts  and  Mother  gave  me  no 
time  to  explain;  but  you  must  pardon  her;  poor  Mother 
is  so  full  of  worldly  pride;  you  will  try  to  pardon  her, 
cara  mia?" 

143 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  That  is  not  the  question.  It  is :  can  they  ever  par- 
don me  for  being  the  means  of  bringing  them  low,  of 
hurting  their  pride  of  —  of  purity  and  blamelessness  ? 
Oh,  they  can  never  pardon  such  a  wrong,  never!" 

She  hid  her  flushed  face  in  her  hands  and  her  voice 
was  very  hopeless. 

"They  will  come  to  see  that  it  was  no  wrong,"  he 
said.  "  They  will  come  to  know  you  as  you  are.  I  am 
sure  of  it,  but  we  must  give  them  a  little  time.  This 
life  seems  to  be  mostly  a  period  of  waiting,  doesn't  it? 
We  are  always  waiting  for  something  and  now  we  can 
wait  for  this,  too,  can't  we?" 

"I  have  not  written  to  father  and  mother  yet,"  she 
returned,  "and  now  I  will.  If  they  will  let  me  go  back 
home,  that  would  be  the  better  way." 

"You  are  my  wife,  Dolores.  You  must  not  forget 
that,"  he  said,  startled. 

"  Yet  I  was  to  be  free,  perfectly  free,  you  said,  and  I 
don't  wish  to  stay  here,  the  means  of  estranging  you 
from  your  family,"  she  answered,  turning  her  tear- 
stained  face  toward  him.  "Oh,  I  shouldn't  have  done 
it.  I  shouldn't  have  married  you,  Mr.  Morello." 

"Dolores,  listen!  Since  the  day  that  you  gave  me 
the  right  to  protect  you,  I  have  kept  my  word,  have  I 
not?"  he  spoke  compellingly,  but  there  was  a  thrilling 
tone  to  his  voice  that  she  had  never  heard  before. 

"Yes,  yes,  indeed  you  have!"  she  replied  quickly. 

"Very  well,  I  shall  always  keep  it.  You  will  always 
be  free,  as  I  said ;  but  I  did  not  promise  not  to  open  my 

144 


AN  UNWELCOME  AVOWAL 

mind  to  you  sometimes  and  to  tell  you  my  thoughts,  my 
wishes;  but  I  won't  even  do  that  if  you  command 
silence.  I  should  like  to  open  my  mind  to  you  to-night, 
Dolores.  Will  you  give  me  permission?" 

"Pray  don't  ask  me.  Say  what  you  think.  You 
have  been  more  than  kind,  you  have  — " 

He  arose  then,  remaining  where  he  was,  but  his  face 
was  glorified  with  a  great  love  that  filled  him;  his  voice 
thrilled  with  a  divine  madness  that  seized  upon  him 
and  changed  him  from  the  calm  and  courteous  gentle- 
man into  the  lover,  the  hoping,  expecting,  conquering 
lover. 

"Dolores,  Dolores,  I  love  you.  I  love  you  better 
than  life.  All  the  virtues  of  women,  all  the  beauties  of 
women,  are  summed  up  in  you;  I  have  never  intruded 
this  love  upon  you,  dear,  but  now  I  must  tell  you"  — 
for  she  had  put  out  repelling  hands  —  "I  live  in  the 
hope  of  winning  my  wife's  love  and  of  having  the 
religious  ceremony  performed  that  shall  give  her  to  me." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  speak  like  this  —  you  forget  —  I 
must  go  back  home  now.  I  can't  live  here  with  you, 
now,  after  this.  Oh,  why  did  you  not  respect  me 
enough" — she  stumbled  on,  "to  keep  still?  I  was 
beginning  to  trust  you." 

"Is  it  wrong  to  love  you,  Dolores ?"  sadly. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  hate  the  word  in  that  sense.  You  for- 
get I  have  done  with  all  folly  of  that  kind.  All  I  want 
in  life  is  peace,  and  it  seems  it  was  too  much,  too 
much." 

145 


THE  DRAG-NET 

She  sank  trembling  into  her  seat  and  hid  her  face 
upon  her  arms,  which  rested  on  a  stand  near  by. 

"You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  me,  Dolores.  I 
respect  your  wishes  and  I  have  done,  now.  I  shall 
love  you  always  with  a  very  different  love  from  any 
you  have  ever  known  —  it  is  of  heaven,  dear,  not  of 
earth.  I  want  you  to  remember  it,  to  think  of  it,  and 
if  the  time  should  ever  come  when  you  feel  that  you  can 
accept  it,  tell  me  you  are  ready  for  the  other  ceremony. 
I  shall  not  give  up  hope,  but  I  will  not  distress  you  by 
speaking  of  it  again.  See,  I  have  not  even  tried  to 
take  your  hand.  But  it  would  be  a  great  sorrow  to  me 
if  you  went  away  from  your  home.  Nothing  could 
make  up  to  me  for  your  absence." 

He  seated  himself  then  and,  taking  up  the  evening 
paper  from  the  table,  remarked,  in  order  to  close  the 
subject  they  had  been  discussing: 

"I've  been  so  hurried  this  afternoon  that  I  have  not 
had  a  moment  to  look  at  the  paper.  Is  there  any  great 
news,  Dolores?" 

"I  haven't  opened  it,"  she  answered;  "I  wanted  to 
get  my  sweet-pea  seeds  in  before  the  rain." 

She  lifted  her  head.  She  would  not  carry  a  grief- 
stricken  countenance  about  with  her,  but  would  try  to 
lighten  up  the  situation  as  much  as  possible  by  what 
cheerfulness  she  could  summon.  To-morrow  she 
would  write  home  and  would  ask  her  parents  to  receive 
her. 

"The  garden  is  putting  on  great  airs,  lately,"  he 

146 


AN  UNWELCOME  AVOWAL 

remarked,  glancing  down  the  page.  He  had  been 
reading  some  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  Dolores  em- 
broidering a  cushion  top  with  bright  silks,  the  while, 
making  a  determined  effort  to  regain  her  equanimity, 
when  he  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hands  and  threw  a 
troubled  glance  in  her  direction. 

She  caught  the  movement  and  the  look.  A  whole 
host  of  fears  took  possession  of  her  immediately. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  cried  in  a  fright- 
ened voice. 

"Nothing  terrible  at  all,  dear,  only  what  we  knew 
would  be  sure  to  happen  soon.  You  would  better  read 
it,  however.  It's  in  the  society  news.  Then  keep  a 
stiff  upper  lip,  for  it's  of  no  consequence  at  all,  little 
girl.  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed  now.  I  feel  physically 
weary.  I've  worked  hard  to-day.  I've  only  one  order 
for  you  to-night:  have  a  sound  night's  sleep.  Good- 
night." 

"  Good-night,"  she  said  faintly,  and  he  passed  up  the 
stairs.  Then  she  seized  the  paper,  a  sickening  feeling 
of  dread  making  every  nerve  tremble.  She  was  glad 
that  he  had  so  kindly  left  her  alone,  that  no  eyes,  not 
even  his  sympathetic  ones,  need  witness  her  shame  and 
cowardice. 

It  was  one  of  the  first  notices  in  the  society  news. 
Fane  Redding  and  his  lovely  bride  had  returned  from 
Europe  sooner  than  they  had  planned,  on  account  of 
his  father's  serious  illness;  that  was  the  substance  of  it. 

So  they  were  in  the  same  city.     The  ocean  was  not 

147 


THE  DRAG-NET 

between  them  now.  She  might  meet  him,  that  was  the 
horror.  She  sent  up  a  wild,  agonized  prayer  that  she 
might  never  again  set  eyes  on  that  man's  face.  Then 
she  crept  into  her  own  room,  the  room  that  had  been 
her  first  haven  of  refuge,  when  Prentiss  Morello  had 
rescued  her  from  the  city  jail.  How  delusive  had  been 
the  calm  that  had  been  stealing  over  her  in  this  retreat; 
how  delusive  was  every  hope  that  she  could  face  the 
world  without  shame  and  terror.  There  had  been  a 
lull  of  a  few  deceptive  weeks,  but  it  was  only  that  the 
train  of  events  might  get  a  better  start  to  crush  her. 
Why  had  she  not  ended  it  all  then  ?  She  lived  over 
that  first  night  in  this  quiet  room  and  heard  her  voice 
as  she  promised  Morello  not  to  take  her  life.  "Be- 
cause of  God"  she  had  answered  him,  and  the  same 
reason  existed  now.  It  would  always  be  "because  of 
God. "  She  would  have  to  live,  and  this  trouble  would 
be  with  her  all  her  life. 

She  broke  into  passionate  weeping  as  on  that  other 
night  and,  long  after  midnight,  Morello,  also  helpless, 
and  very  anxious,  crept  noiselessly  down  from  his 
room  and  once  again  listened  outside  of  the  door  to  the 
sounds  of  her  heart-breaking  grief. 


148 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  Two  GIKLS 

MADAM  MORELLO  kept  her  room  for  two  weeks,  nor 
would  she  receive  her  son  nor  any  message  from  him. 
She  kept  Constance  closely  with  her,  though  she  did 
not  talk  about  the  cause  of  her  suffering.  She  was 
trying  hard  to  put  the  whole  thing  from  her.  Her 
pride  had  carried  her  on  through  life,  so  far,  and  she 
had  been  mounting  higher  and  higher  year  after  year, 
in  her  own  estimation,  and  now  to  bite  the  dust  at  the 
height  of  her  victorious  way  was  almost  more  than  she 
could  endure.  She  was  filled  with  a  blind,  unreasoning 
rage  against  Prentiss  and  a  bitter  hatred  of  Dolores 
who,  she  felt  sure,  was  the  cause  of  the  change  from 
the  desirable  young  man  she  had  left,  two  years  before, 
to  the  very  undesirable  one  that  he  was  now,  with  his 
low  affiliations. 

But  now,  after  two  weeks,  she  began  to  go  about  the 
house  again  and  even  talked  about  another  trip  abroad. 

"But  Mr.  Lyndhurst  is  coming,  Mother,"  said  Con- 
stance. 

Madam  Morello  looked  at  her  pityingly.  "Pray 
don't  imagine,  dear,  that  the  Hon.  William  Lyndhurst 
will  propose  to  you  when  he  learns  our  delightful 
family  secret,"  she  said,  with  the  steely  glitter  of  eye 

149 


THE  DRAG-NET 

which  the  thought  of  her  son's  marriage  now  always 
brought. 

Constance  gave  a  short  laugh.  "Then  I  wouldn't 
marry  him  for  worlds,  if  that  is  the  kind  of  man  he  is." 

"  You  underrate  the  worth  of  suitable  family  connec- 
tions, child,"  returned  the  mother,  looking  at  her  criti- 
cally. "You  are  not  looking  well,  dear,"  she  resumed. 
"I've  kept  you  in  too  closely.  Take  a  walk.  I've 
written  to  Julia  Rawley.  Take  the  letter  over  to  her 
and  try  to  get  a  little  color  in  your  cheeks." 

So  Constance  got  her  first  chance,  since  the  blow 
had  fallen,  to  see  Dolores.  She  made  haste  with  the 
letter  to  Mrs.  Rawley,  which  she  handed  in  at  the  door; 
then,  taking  a  car  she  made  her  way  to  the  bungalow. 

The  young  wife  sat  in  her  pretty  room,  sewing,  when 
the  timid  knock  sounded.  She  thought  it  the  maid, 
whom  Morello  insisted  upon  her  keeping  to  do  the  hard- 
est work,  and  so  called  the  invitation  to  come  in. 

She  stood  up  when  she  saw  Constance,  and  the  two 
young  girls  looked  at  each  other  with  frightened  faces 
and  quickly  beating  hearts.  Then  Dolores'  eyes 
sought  the  floor  and  she  flushed  painfully. 

"I  have  not  been  able  to  get  away  from  the  house 
before,  for  Mother  has  been  ill,  but  I  came  as  soon  as  I 
could,"  Constance  said  with  an  effort  at  composure. 

"  Why  did  you  come  ? ' '  asked  Dolores  in  a  low  voice. 

"Why?  Because  I  want  to  be  friendly  with  you, 
Dolores.  You  are  Prentiss'  wife  and  my  sister,  and  I 
don't  know  anything  —  any  of  the  extenuating  circum- 

150 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

stances.  I've  been  trying  not  to  judge.  Prentiss  says 
you  have  a  noble  soul  and  I  —  I  want  to  think  so,  I'm 
sure;  I'm  going  to  think  so,"  she  went  on  nervously. 

"Won't  you  be  seated  ?"  asked  Dolores,  indicating  a 
chair  near  the  door  and  taking  her  own  chair  again. 

"So  far  away?  Let  me  come  up  near  you,  please," 
the  young  girl  said,  pushing  a  hassock  up  to  the  other's 
low  rocker. 

"  Please  ask  me  what  questions  you  like ;  you  have  a 
right  to  and  I  will  answer  truthfully,"  said  Dolores, 
folding  her  hands  in  her  lap  and  letting  her  eyes  rest  on 
them. 

"How  can  I  question  you  about  such  things?" 
asked  Constance,  tremblingly.  "When  I  look  at  you 
sitting  there,  so  sweet  and  gentle,  I  can't  believe  any- 
thing wrong  of  you  and  I  won't,  I  won't!"  she  ended  in 
a  burst  of  weeping  and  buried  her  face  in  Dolores'  lap, 
kneeling  on  the  floor  before  her. 

The  young  wife's  hands  fell  lightly  upon  the  head  of 
the  sorrowing  girl,  her  drawn  features  relaxed  and  her 
eyes  grew  moist  —  eyes  that  were  so  weary  of  tears. 
"You  are  generous,  very  generous,  Constance,"  she 
said.  "You  are  worthy  of  your  brother,  who  is  all 
goodness  and  kindness  to  me.  If  you  will  listen,  now, 
I  will  tell  you  what  has  given  rise  to  these  reports." 

"Yes,  I  knew  you  would.  I  want  to  know  the 
truth,  and  I  shall  believe  every  word  you  say,"  returned 
the  girl,  her  face  still  hidden. 

"  If  you  will  do  that,  if  you  will  believe  me,  it  will  be 

151 


THE  DRAG-NET 

a  great  comfort  to  talk  to  you,  Constance,"  said  Dolores. 
"You  are  my  own  age  and  will  understand.  I've  not 
had  a  real  friend  since  I  came  here." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  gathering  fortitude  for  the 
avowal ;  then  she  said :  "  Take  your  seat,  Constance,  for 
I  shall  not  hide  my  eyes  again,  dear.  I  want  you  to 
look  right  at  me  as  I  tell  you  these  things.  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  the  truth;  I'm  only  ashamed  of  the  wrong 
things  people  think  of  me." 

Constance  took  the  hassock  again  and,  with  the  tears 
still  welling  up,  she  smiled  happily.  "  I  felt  it  must  be 
so.  Oh,  I  felt  it  all  the  time !"  she  said. 

"I've  told  you  about  my  people  in  England,"  Dolores 
began,  "  but  I  did  not  tell  you  about  my  parents  betroth- 
ing me  when  I  was  but  sixteen  years  of  age,  to  a  boy  I 
had  no  liking  for  at  all.  There  were  three  girls  coming 
up  after  me  to  be  provided  for  and  we  were  poor,  and 
there  was  no  thought  of  any  refusal  when  his  parents 
asked  my  parents  for  my  hand  for  their  son.  He  was  a 
big,  overgrown  fellow,  just  my  age,  the  only  son,  and 
he  would  inherit  quite  a  fortune.  They  decided  we 
were  to  be  married  at  twenty.  The  boy  was  a  coarse, 
horsey,  doggy  fellow,  good  natured,  but  with  no  intel- 
lect. I  don't  suppose  I  should  have  hated  him  if  he 
hadn't  been  picked  out  for  me,  but  as  it  was,  I  did.  I 
had  my  dreams,  my  ideals,  Constance,  as  every  girl 
has,  and  when  I  thought  of  spending  my  life  with  such 
a  companion  I  was  beside  myself  with  misery.  I  know 
I  was  trying  to  them  all  at  home,  but  when  my  selfish- 

152 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

ness  and  ingratitude  were  harped  upon  too  much,  I 
rebelled  and  we  had  dreadful  times.  I  kept  out  of  his 
way  as  much  as  I  could  and  things  dragged  miserably 
on  till  we  were  twenty.  Then  preparations  began  in 
earnest.  There  was  Ruth,  a  tall  girl  of  eighteen; 
Hester,  seventeen;  Constance,  fifteen.  It  was  incum- 
bent upon  me  to  yield  my  place  as  Miss  Brookfield  to 
Ruth,  to  lighten  my  father's  load  and  my  mother's 
anxiety  by  shifting  the  burden  of  my  support  upon 
other  shoulders.  I  grew  weary  of  the  wrangling,  of 
being  looked  upon  as  the  personification  of  selfishness, 
of  being  in  the  way  at  home  and  so  I  gave  in  and  con- 
sented." 

"Oh,  Dolores,  how  could  you,  how  could  you?" 
cried  Constance,  sympathetically. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  could,  but  I  did.  After  I  had 
consented  my  misery  only  increased.  I  thought  of 
taking  poison,  of  running  away,  but — I'm  very  timid  by 
nature,  Constance.  I  was  afraid  of  God,  so  I  could 
not  take  poison;  and  I  was  afraid  of  the  great  world  of 
strangers,  so  I  could  not  run  away  and  the  time  went  on 
until  it  lacked  but  a  week  of  the  time  appointed.  Then 
one  day,  to  get  by  myself,  I  stole  away  and  went  to  the 
seashore  about  two  miles  from  home.  As  I  was  return- 
ing, a  young  man  came  along  on  horseback,  one  of  the 
party  at  the  big  manor  house  on  the  hill  above  our  vil- 
lage. He  dismounted  and  asked  me  to  direct  him 
there.  That  was  the  beginning,  Constance. 

"He  was  everything  that  the  other  was   not;  or, 

153 


THE  DRAG-NET 

rather,  he  seemed  so  to  me.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
of  the  contrast  that  he  seemed  all  that  a  man  ought  to 
be  —  brave,  handsome,  intellectual,  sympathetic.  He 
had  heard  me  play  the  organ  in  our  little  church,  he 
said,  and  been  seeking  a  way  to  get  an  introduction  to 
me.  He  hoped  I  would  pardon  him  for  being  so  self- 
ishly glad  that  he  had  lost  his  way  to-day  in  our  beau- 
tiful English  lanes,  since  it  afforded  him  an  opportunity 
to  speak  to  me  and  so  on.  You  know  how  it  is,  Con- 
stance." 

"Indeed  I  do,  poor  dear.  It  doesn't  take  young 
people  long  to  fall  in  love.  I  knew  I  was  in  love  imme- 
diately upon  the  introduction.  I  knew  I  had  surren- 
dered when  I  first  looked  into  Mr.  Lyndhurst's  face, 
so  I  know  all  about  it,  Dolores." 

"That's  why  I'm  not  afraid  to  tell  you,"  explained 
Dolores.  "  Well,  the  next  day  was  Sunday  and  he  was 
in  church.  Monday  we  met  in  the  village;  Tuesday  he 
came  into  the  church  as  I  was  practising  and  so  he  laid 
siege  to  my  heart  in  the  most  ardent  way  and  soon  had 
the  story  of  my  unhappiness.  He  was  an  American. 
He  was  to  start  back  to  America  immediately.  He 
begged  me  to  go  with  him;  would  hear  of  nothing  else. 
We  would  be  married  at  once.  I,  recognizing  him  as  a 
means  sent  by  heaven  itself  to  rescue  me  from  the  sac- 
rilegious vows  I  was  about  to  take,  gladly  consented." 

"  I  should  have  done  just  the  same,  I  know  I  should," 
assented  Constance.  "I  don't  blame  you  a  bit." 

"The  night  before  what  was  to  have  been  my  wed- 

154 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

ding  day  we  went  away  together.  In  London  we  were 
married." 

"Married,  Dolores?" 

"Yes,  we  were  married.  I  shall  never  believe  it 
anything  but  a  true  marriage.  That  is  why  I'm  not 
ashamed  to  have  you  know.  Mr.  Redding  explained" — 

"Mr.  Redding!  Not  Fane  Redding?"  cried  Con- 
stance. 

"Yes,  Fane  Redding.     Do  you  know  him?" 

"I've  known  him  for  years!" 

"You  think  you  have  known  him  for  years,  but 
you've  never  known  him,  Constance.  I  thought  I 
knew  him  through  and  through.  I  should  have  hated 
any  one  who  ever  hinted  to  me  that  he  was  not  the  most 
truthful,  the  most  honorable  man  living.  I  thanked 
Heaven  continually  for  the  great  blessing  that  had 
fallen  to  my  lot.  I  was  so  filled  with  my  love  that 
every  moment  was  a  keen  delight;  so  uplifted  that  my 
feet  could  scarcely  walk  on  the  earth.  I  felt,  Constance, 
as  if  I  had  been  transplanted  from  hell  into  heaven." 

Every  word  was  well-known  language  to  the  girl  who 
listened,  and  reciprocal  feeling  beamed  in  her  eyes  as 
she  heard  this  tale  of  maiden  love  and  rapture. 

"I  counted  home,  father,  mother,  sisters,  well  lost 
since  I  had  gained  the  mighty  good  of  a  noble  man's 
affection  and  faith.  There  was  nothing  of  the  import- 
ance of  love.  It  was  a  great  mystery  to  me  how  I  had 
managed  to  live  before  this  man  appeared  to  me  in 
that  lane.  I  was  always  going  over  every  word  that 

155 


THE  DRAG-NET 

we  had  said,  every  look  we  had  given  each  other,  every 
kiss  we  had  stolen  during  that  brief  courting  time,  and 
it  was  all  good  and  sacred  to  me." 

"Yes,  I  know,  I  know,  Dolores.  It  is,  too!  It  is 
perfect,"  Constance  broke  in. 

"I  understand  it  all.  Being  in  love  is  just  as  you 
say.  I  feel  just  like  that!  I'll  tell  you  something," 
laughing  happily.  "He'll  be  here  in  just  five  weeks. 
Only  think  of  it." 

"I  hope  everything  will  be  all  right  with  you,  Con- 
stance," Dolores  said,  apprehensively.  "I  hope  my 
affairs  will  make  no  difference." 

"  No  danger;  he's  as  much  in  love  as  I  am  and  he's  a 
man.  He's  big  and  splendid,  and  brave,  and  loyal, 
and  true,  and  glorious!  Oh,  wait  till  you  see  him, 
Dolores!  But  go  on.  You  were  married  in  London." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Redding  explained  why  we  had  to  be 
secret  about  it.  There  was  a  lot  of  property  involved. 
He  explained  to  me  the  different  kinds  of  marriage 
ceremonies  that  were  legal.  The  common  law  cere- 
mony seemed  best  to  him.  He  said  —  he  said  —  oh, 
how  could  he  have  said  that;  but  he  did,  Constance, 
and  I  thought  it  so  good,  so  religious,  —  he  said  that  if 
a  man  hadn't  love  and  loyalty  enough  to  keep  a  com- 
mon law  marriage  he  would  be  scoundrel  enough  to 
break  any  marriage  vow,  though  a  dozen  clergymen 
officiated.  So  we  went  through  a  common  law  cere- 
mony. It  is  just  that  we  gave  ourselves  to  each  other, 
calling  upon  God  to  witness  that  we  were  man  and 

156 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

wife.  We  were  to  have  the  church  ceremony  when 
secrecy  was  no  longer  necessary,  just  to  show  respect 
to  his  friends  and  the  public;  but  the  real  marriage,  the 
marriage  recorded  in  heaven,  was  now.  He  could  not 
have  me  with  him,  look  after  my  comfort  and  pay  all 
my  expenses,  without  this  common  law  marriage.  It 
would  not  be  in  accordance  with  his  self-respect." 

Again  she  was  silent  for  the  moment  in  painful 
retrospection  and  her  companion  waited  with  intense 
interest  the  continuation. 

"I  was  the  happiest  bride  in  the  world,  I  think,  as 
we  crossed  the  ocean.  If  I  had  the  least  bit  of  a  feeling 
that  I  could  call  sorrow,  it  was  that  our  marriage  could 
not  be  immediately  acknowledged ;  and  yet  at  the  same 
time,  I  gloried  in  the  privilege  of  making  the  sacrifice 
for  the  man  of  my  heart  and  soul.  What  had  he  not 
done  for  me  ?  Surely,  it  was  a  very  small  thing  to  do 
in  return. 

"He  took  me  to  a  beautifully  furnished  house  to 
board  when  we  arrived  in  this  city,  kept  by  a  sweet- 
tempered,  though  rather  illiterate  woman,  and  he  came 
to  see  me  as  often  as  he  could.  I  wrote  to  my  parents 
from  that  place  and  received  an  answer  that  seemed  to 
me  to  be  the  wickedest  ever  written.  They  only  asked 
me,  they  said,  to  keep  the  ocean  between  us.  They 
hoped  I  would  never  set  foot  in  England  again.  They 
would  try  to  forgive.  They  thought,  perhaps,  in  time, 
that  the  young  man  who  was  to  have  married  me  would 
take  Ruth,  and  that  any  reappearance  of  myself  upon 

157 


THE  DRAG-NET 

the  scene  would  cause  nothing  but  trouble  and  misery 
to  everybody.  I  had  made  my  bed  and  must  lie  in  it. 
I  did  not  write  again  until  two  weeks  ago,  after  Mr. 
Morello  told  me  you  had  heard.  I  wrote  then.  I 
expect  an  answer  soon,  now." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  wrote  at  all!"  exclaimed  Con- 
stance, indignantly. 

Dolores  did  not  reply  to  that,  but  went  on  quickly. 
"There  isn't  much  more  to  tell.  The  first  break  in  my 
supreme  joy  occurred  one  day  when  officers  came  to 
the  house  and  arrested  the  woman  who  kept  the  house, 
and  all  the  boarders.  We  were  taken  to  the  city  jail 
and  I  learned  then,  for  the  first  time,  that  I  had  been 
living  in  a  disreputable  house.  They  all  paid  their 
fines  and  left  immediately,  but  I  had  to  send  word  to 
Mr.  Redding,  as  I  happened  not  to  have  the  money. 
He  came  immediately  and  took  me  out.  He  was 
furious!  He  hadn't  known,  he  said,  that  the  house 
was  not  one  of  the  most  reputable  in  the  city.  He  had 
never  seen  anything  wrong  about  it  and  he  got  down 
on  his  knees  when  we  were  alone  in  the  hotel  he  took 
me  to  and  begged  my  pardon  again  and  again.  I  be- 
lieved every  word  he  said.  If  he  hadn't  known,  he 
was  blameless.  I  had  stayed  there  a  month  and  I 
hadn't  known.  But  that  experience  was  dreadful  to 
me.  It  seemed  as  though  the  disgrace  would  kill  me. 
He  took  me  traveling  then.  We  were  gone  four 
months.  He  devoted  himself  completely  to  me,  to 
make  me  forget.  No  one  could  possibly  be  tenderer 

158 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

and  my  love  for  him  grew  deeper  and  deeper.  When 
we  returned  he  furnished  the  wing  of  a  pretty  house 
and  I  did  my  own  housekeeping.  I  was  so  happy 
there.  The  outer  door  and  porch  to  my  wing  looked 
into  the  garden  enclosed  by  a  hedge.  It  was  as  green 
and  flowery  as  our  parsonage  at  home  in  England.  I 
never  saw  the  occupants  of  the  other  parts  of  the  house, 
excepting  now  and  then  as  I  passed  out  to  the  street,  I 
might  see  some  one  coming  or  going.  I  had  no  fear, 
as  Mr.  Redding  assured  me  I  could  not  be  molested 
there,  as  he  knew  the  owner  of  the  house  well.  I 
counted  the  days  now  until  I  could  be  married  in  the 
church,  and  be  taken  home  and  introduced  to  his 
parents.  Then  one  evening  he  came  and  told  me  he 
had  to  go  to  New  York  on  business  of  great  importance. 
He  would  be  away  two  weeks.  He  was  very  down- 
cast. It  would  seem  an  eternity,  he  said,  but  the  good- 
byes were  said  at  last  and  he  was  gone.  He  was  to  go 
on  a  midnight  train. 

"The  next  afternoon  I  was  again  arrested  and  taken 
to  the  same  dreadful  place,  the  city  jail.  This  time  I 
had  no  one  to  send  word  to,  for  was  not  my  husband 
speeding  on  his  way  to  distant  New  York  ?  I  had  no 
address  there  through  which  to  find  him.  Constance, 
I  thought  I  should  die.  I  had  need  to  think  of  all  the 
brave  women  I  had  read  of  in  history.  Principally  I 
dwelt  upon  the  bravery  of  Marie  Antoinette.  When  I 
thought  of  all  the  outrages  perpetrated  upon  her  and 
the  Princess  de  Lamballe  by  their  enemies,  this  outrage 

159 


THE  DRAG-NET 

upon  me  sank  into  insignificant  proportions,  and  I 
reinforced  my  sinking  courage  that  way.  I  felt  that  I 
must  stay  there  the  two  weeks  of  my  husband's  absence. 
I  had  lived  so  by  myself  that  there  was  no  one  to  appeal 
to,  so  I  stayed  in  that  bastille;  and  the  things  I  was  com- 
pelled to  witness,  Constance,  are  most  unbelievable! 

"But  one  week  had  passed,  however,  when  the  fine 
was  paid  and  I  was  taken  down  and,  and  —  your 
brother,  Constance,  was  there  waiting  for  me.  He 
said  I  was  to  go  with  him;  he  would  take  me  to  Mr. 
Redding.  Something,  then,  had  brought  him  back 
sooner  than  he  expected  and  he  had  sent  this  friend 
for  me.  A  great  prayer  of  thankfulness  went  up  from 
my  very  soul.  I  cannot  tell  you — what  it  was — to  breathe 
fresh  air  again ;  to  be  in  the  sunlight,  —  the  sunlight, 
God's  sunlight.  Oh,  there  are  no  words  to  express  it!" 

She  was  overcome,  then,  and  covered  her  crimson 
face  with  her  hands,  through  which  the  tears  fell. 

Constance  sprang  up  and  walked  excitedly  up  and 
down  the  room  with  blazing,  indignant  eyes  and  tightly 
clenched  hands.  "What  next?  oh,  what  next?"  she 
asked. 

"Your  brother  took  me  to  the  church  where  there 
was,  —  there  was  a  wedding  ceremony  in  progress.  It 
was  Fane  Redding  and  some  one  I  had  never  heard  of, 
a  beautiful,  white  satin-clad  figure  — " 

''Oh,  no,  no!  Dolores,  how  dreadful!  how  awful!" 
cried  Constance,  flinging  her  arms  around  the  young 
wife  and  sobbing  out  her  sympathy.  "  How  could  you 

160 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

bear  it  ?  It  was  a  thousand  times  worse  than  the  jail ! 
Oh,  that  a  human  being  could  do  such  a  cruel,  dreadful 
thing!" 

"I  don't  know  how  I  bore  it,  dear.  I'm  a  little 
misty  about  the  next  hour  or  two.  I  believe  I  fainted 
and  they  carried  me  out;  then  Mr.  Morello  took  me 
down  to  the  beach  in  the  car  he  had  brought  to  take 
me  to  the  church  in.  I  remember  he  asked  me  for  the 
address  of  my  best  friend,  and  I  had  to  tell  him  I 
hadn't  a  friend  upon  earth,  either  here  or  in  England, 
and  then  he  brought  me  here.  I  didn't  know  it  was 
his  house.  I  had  begged  him  to  take  me  somewhere 
where  I  could  hide  myself.  Of  course,  I  did  not  dare 
to  go  back  to  that  house  I  had  come  from,  for  I  was 
afraid  of  being  again  seized  by  the  police.  I  don't 
know  how  I  got  through  that  night.  I  thought  the 
family  were  away,  but  that  your  brother  would  speak 
to  them  and  ask  them  to  let  me  stay  one  night.  I 
didn't  know  what  I  should  do  the  next  day.  I  couldn't 
think.  I  could  only  beseech  Heaven  for  death.  But 
that  was  futile,  of  course.  Daylight  came  and  I  came 
out  of  this  room — it  was  this  room — Constance,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  take  breakfast  but  Mr.  Morello 
and  myself.  Then  he  told  me  he  had  not  known  what 
else  to  do  and,  and  —  he  asked  me  to  marry  him.  I 
was  astonished  and  hurt.  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
it.  I  didn't  trust  him.  I  didn't  care  for  him  in  any 
way.  He  took  me,  then,  to  Bishop  Wood's  country 
house  and  left  me  there.  The  Bishop  joined  forces 

161 


THE  DRAG-NET 

with  your  brother,  after  he  had  put  me  through  a  most 
crucial  catechism.  Perhaps  I  did  wrong,  Constance, 
I  don't  know,  but  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do.  In 
this  foreign  country,  with  no  friends  and  no  way  to 
make  my  living,  not  daring  to  go  back  to  England  in 
my  shame  and  disgrace,  it  seemed  the  only  thing  I 
could  do." 

Constance  lifted  her  head  and  said  timidly,  "Then 
you  didn't  —  you  don't  love  Prentiss,  Dolores?" 

"Dear,  after  an  experience  like  that,  can  you  im- 
agine —  " 

"No,  no,  I  can't,  I  can't!  but  he  worships  you,  poor 
fellow,"  she  returned,  her  voice  freighted  with  love  and 
pity  for  her  brother. 

"I  begged  him  not  to  sacrifice  himself  for  me,  Con- 
stance, and  now,  since  it  hurts  you  and  your  mother 
so,  I  see  I  should  not  have  been  persuaded;  and  per- 
haps they  will  let  me  return  home  now." 

"To  England?" 

"Yes!" 

"But  you  mustn't  think  of  it.  Dolores,  you  are 
Prentiss'  wife." 

"Only  in  name.     Not  in  reality,  Constance." 

"Not  in  reality?"  questioned  the  girl,  gropingly, 
entirely  unable  to  grasp  the  situation. 

"  No,  not  in  reality.  There  was  a  civil  ceremony,  in 
order  that  he  might  give  me  his  name,  lawfully,  and 
his  home  and  protection,  pityingly,  because  of  my  mis- 
fortunes —  that  is  all." 

162 


THE  TWO  GIRLS 

Still  Constance  looked  at  her  wonderingly  and  she 
went  on  trying  to  clarify  the  young  girl's  ideas. 

"  I  think  your  brother  honored  me  enough  —  not  to 
dream  that  I  could  —  marry,  in  reality,  after  that.  I 
think  he  did  me  so  much  justice  as  to  understand  that 
my  heart,  not  being  interested — oh,  don't  you  see,  Con- 
stance? I  couldn't  really  marry  when  my  whole  being 
was  in  revolt  against  love,  marriage,  mankind  — 
everything  pertaining  to  that  sort  of  thing." 

"But  a  civil  service  is  legal,  Dolores." 

"Yes,  but  we  had  an  understanding.  He  promised 
that  I  need  only  accept  his  name,  his  house,  his  pro- 
tection, —  not  him,  in  any  other  sense.  He  would  not 
annoy  me  in  any  way.  I  could  be  as  free  as  though 
single.  He  has  kept  his  word,  Constance,  and  I  have 
learned  to  think  that  there  is  one  man  in  the  world  who 
is  truthful,  at  least." 

A  deep  color  surged  into  the  young  girl's  face  and 
she  drew  herself  erect.  "But,  poor  fellow,  poor 
Chummie,"  she  said,  "when  he  loves  you  so,  Dolores." 

Dolores  stood  erect  herself,  then.  "My  heart  was 
like  a  stone  in  my  breast,"  she  said  with  emotion.  "I 
hated  men.  I  hated  to  think  of  love!  How  could  I 
have  done  differently  under  those  circumstances?" 

Constance  stood  before  her  silent  for  a  brief  instant, 
then  held  out  her  hands. 

"You  dear  girl,  you  couldn't.  /  couldn't.  You 
were  right.  He  was  right.  I  love  you  both  with  all 
my  heart.  I  shall  tell  Mother  that  we  ought  to  be 

103 


THE  DRAG-NET 

proud  of  you,  and  oh!  some  day  —  but  we'll  wait, 
we'll  wait." 

"Yes;  don't  promise  anything;  for  if  they'll  have  me 
at  home,  I  must  go,  I  must,  dear." 

"But  they  won't  have  you  at  home;  it  would  inter- 
fere with  Ruth's  chances,"  returned  Constance  grimly. 


164 


CHAPTER  XVI 
A  STRAIGHTFORWARD  TALK 

CONSTANCE  had  telephoned  her  brother  on  reaching 
home  about  her  interview  with  Dolores. 

"Chummie,"  she  whispered  over  the  private  wire, 
"I've  been  to  see  her;  and,  dear,  I  love  her  better  than 
ever." 

There  were  caressing,  motherly  tones  in  her  sweet 
voice  that  Morello  felt  and  inwardly  blessed  her  for,  as 
he  asked: 

"Did  she  tell  you  all,  Connie?" 

"Yes,  you  grand  old  fellow,  she  did.  I'm  crying 
now,  Chummie,  for  you." 

"Don't,  sweet;  please  me  by  keeping  your  eyes 
bright.  Did  she  tell  you  she  thought  of  going  back  to 
England?" 

"Yes,  but  don't  fret  about  that.  They  will  be 
afraid  over  there,  that  they  won't  be  able  to  catch  that 
booby  for  Ruth,  and  they  won't  let  her  come.  But  if 
ibey  would,  we  wouldn't  let  her  go,  would  we,  Chum- 
raie?" 

"Yes,  we  would.  If  she  wants  to  go  she  must  go. 
I've  given  my  word." 

"O,  Chummie,  your  wings  are  sprouting  so  fast 
I'll  have  to  cut  your  feathers.  You  should  take  her 

165 


THE  DRAG-NET 

by  storm.     I  know  what  girls  like, — I  know — " 

"We  are  situated  differently,  dear.  You  don't 
quite  understand,"  he  interrupted  gently.  "Does 
Mother  know  you've  been  there?" 

"No,  but  she  knows  I've  returned  from  the  walk 
she  sent  me  out  to  take,  so  I  must  go  to  her.  Good- 
night, you  precious  darling.  Here's  a  kiss — get  it?" 

"Yes,  sweet.  It  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  go  out 
to  the  bungalow.  God  bless  you!" 

He  caught  a  little  sob  before  the  receiver  was  quite 
placed  on  its  hook  and  he  sat  for  a  few  minutes  quite 
still,  thinking  of  the  two  girls,  so  much  alike,  yet  so 
differently  placed,  apparently  cut  from  the  same  grade 
of  human  material,  yet  the  karma  of  one  life  so  myste- 
riously different  from  that  of  the  other. 

He  wondered  if  Dolores  was  pleased  with  that  visit 
and,  also,  what  she  would  say  to  that  which  he  had  to 
explain  to  her  about  his  own  work  that  night. 

Dolores  looked  at  him  in  wonder  as  he  entered. 
Something  had  happened.  Whatever  it  was  it  was 
good.  She  had  never  seen  so  exalted  an  expression  on 
his  face  before.  They  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
leaving  serious  matters  till  the  dinner  was  finished  and 
they  were  in  the  drawing-room  for  the  evening;  so  she 
said  nothing,  but  he  knew  that  she  had  noticed. 

"Little  wife,"  he  said,  "it's  a  night  to  fill  one  with 
divine  madness." 

"I  know,"  she  responded  quickly.  "I  was  in  it, 
thrilled  by  it,  shaken  by  it,  a  few  moments  ago." 

166 


A  STRAIGHTFORWARD  TALK 

"You  were  out  of  doors ?" 

"Yes,  in  the  pergola,  with  the  roses  and  birds.  It 
lifted  me  off  my  feet." 

"  With  the  roses  and  birds  —  the  roses,  birds,  moon- 
light, heavenly  odors.  Dolores, — a  homogeneous  lot, 
dear.  I'll  be  down  in  a  moment  for  dinner." 

He  was  gone  before  she  could  answer.  He  had 
never  played  the  lover.  Only  on  the  night  two  weeks 
before,  when  he  had  had  to  let  her  see  the  dangers 
hemming  her  in,  had  he  told  his  love. 

He  had  felt  the  crassness  of  such  an  avowal  under 
the  circumstances  and  had  resolved  not  to  mention  it 
again.  This  night  he  had  awakened  to  an  idea.  He 
would  put  his  love  into  the  hands  of  the  mighty  hidden, 
integrating  forces  and  he  felt  certain  that  some  time,  in 
the  midst  of  the  crash  of  events  from  the  fires  of  great 
consummations,  it  would  arise  white,  untarnished, 
compelling,  to  an  assured  victory. 

Having  recognized  this,  he  was  a  man  to  move,  now, 
not  to  be  moved  like  a  pawn  on  a  chessboard. 

He  was  a  brilliant  talker  when  in  this  mood  and  he 
entertained  Dolores  as  the  dinner  progressed  by  re- 
lating in  an  inimitable  way,  his  discussions  with  the 
various  people  who  entered  his  office  to  ask  questions 
of  him  regarding  his  future  intentions,  or  to  remon- 
strate with  him  about  his  present  doings.  Many  of 
the  things  said  were  so  ridiculous  that  they  brought  a 
ready  smile  to  her  face,  a  face  that  needed  but  the 
happy  light  to  be  perfect. 

167 


THE  DRAG-NET 

But  when  they  were  alone  in  the  drawing-room  he 
cleared  the  decks  for  action  by  bringing  a  chair  for- 
ward and,  in  a  masterful  manner,  saying: 

"This  is  for  you,  Dolores." 

Perhaps,  after  all,  there  might  be  much  in  what 
Constance  had  said  of  the  authoritative  manner.  At  all 
events  he  could  be  no  other  way  to-night. 

She  took  the  seat  unquestioningly. 

"We  must  have  a  talk  to-night,  dear,  a  manly, 
womanly  talk.  You  are  not  a  baby  to  be  petted  and 
screened,  Dolores,  but  a  woman  with  a  brave  soul,  a 
woman  who  dares  to  look  life  as  it  is  in  the  face. " 

"That  is  what  I  wish  to  be,  at  least,"  she  replied 
with  a  slight  shiver. 

"That  is  what  you  are,"  was  the  quick  reply;  "what 
you  are  and  will  continue  to  be.  Remember  this  all 
the  time;  you  are  a  woman  with  form  erect,  head  held 
high,  fearless." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  fascinated  by  the  picture.  "Yes,  I 
believe  now  that  I  am." 

"  Of  course  you  do.  Now,  then,  we  must  talk  about 
a  man  we  have  not  once  spoken  of.  I  thought,  per- 
haps, there  would  be  no  need,  and  that  we  could  leave 
him  buried  in  the  stagnant  waters  of  his  own  corrup- 
tion, but  we  cannot.  Circumstances  have  arisen,  that — 

She  stopped  him  with  uplifted  hand,  her  cheeks 
flaming,  her  eyes  steady. 

"Go  on.  I  am  a  woman  now,  you  know,  not  the 
dreaming  girl  of  the  English  lane." 

168 


A  STRAIGHTFORWARD  TALK 

"Yes,"  he  said,  a  new  light  springing  to  his  face,  as 
he  felt  the  response  to  his  mood.  "I  will  go  straight 
to  the  point.  We  will  henceforth  talk  about  what  is 
necessary,  because  of  your  brave  womanhood.  Well 
you  know  we  have  been  trying  to  find  out  the  real 
owners  of  all  the  low  dives  in  the  city.  I  set  Fenleigh 
to  work  at  it.  He  was  eminently  fitted  for  that  task 
and  he  has  made  good.  The  next  issue  of  the  Drag- 
Net  will  begin  the  list.  There  are  three  names  to 
publish,  and  - 

"And  one  of  them  is  Fane  Redding,"  she  said 
steadily. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  glad  she  had  so  bravely  intro- 
duced the  man's  name.  "Yes,  one  of  the  owners,  and 
the  worst  of  them,  is  Fane  Redding.  I  did  not  look 
for  this,  but  I  would  be  astonished  if  it  were  not  so. 
You  see  how  impossible  it  would  be  not  to  post  him  as 
an  owner,  if  I  do  the  others." 

"Yes." 

"  The  Drag-Net  is  out  after  big  fish.  The  minnows 
can  slip  through  the  meshes  easily.  They  have  it  hard 
enough  as  it  is,  poor  fellows;  but  such  as  he  the  Drag- 
Net  will  strive  to  land." 

"Yes,  but  you  must  look  for  trouble,  great  trouble," 
she  said  calmly. 

"They  will  flounder,  no  doubt,"  he  continued, 
"  make  a  dive  for  deep  water  and  churn  the  waves  into 
a  yeasty  foam;  but  once  we  get  the  net  about  them, 
their  game  is  ended." 

169 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"I  suppose  there  will  be  lawsuits,"  she  remarked. 

"There  will  be  much  threatening  of  lawsuits,"  he 
answered,  "but  we  shall  publish  no  name  until  we 
shall  have  absolute  proof  of  the  crime,  I'm  ready  for 
lawsuits  if  they  come,  but  I  think  few  will  carry  far." 

An  idea  had  come  to  her  as  he  talked,  which  shook 
her  for  a  moment,  but  the  virility  of  his  attitude  filled 
her  with  courage  and  she  asked: 

"  Did  he  own  the  house  he  took  me  to  ?" 

"The  last  one,  yes,  Dolores;  he  owns  it  still." 

"He  allowed  them  to—" 

"He  planned  it,  Dolores,  that  he  might  get  away 
before  you  knew.  No  one  is  safer  than  when  in  that 
jail,  for  they  see  no  papers.  Some  one  in  authority  is 
in  his  pay,  is  his  henchman." 

She  arose  from  her  chair,  drawing  great,  painful 
breaths,  she  was  so  filled  with  horror;  but  when  he 
arose  also  and  she  saw  his  knotted  fists  held  firmly  at 
his  side  and  a  glint  as  of  steel  come  into  his  eyes,  she 
sank  back  again  and  tried  to  calm  herself. 

His  own  momentary  exacerbation  of  anger  vanished 
as  quickly  as  it  had  appeared.  His  fingers  relaxed 
and  he  laughed  shortly. 

"I'm  ashamed,  Dolores,  that  the  viper  can  move  me. 
He  isn't  worth  a  thought.  I  wish  he  was  not  in  this, 
for  many  reasons;  but  I  can't  let  him  escape  for  these 
very  reasons." 

"  No,  you  cannot.  It  would  not  save  discussion,  but 
provoke  it,  if  he  were  the  only  one  unmolested." 

170 


A  STRAIGHTFORWARD  TALK 

"That's  it,  exactly,"  he  acquiesced.  "We  must 
face  it.  I  wanted  you  to  know  how  I'm  situated. 
We'll  make  those  fellows  bite  the  dust.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  protected  vice  in  this  city  and  we'll  hunt 
it  out.  But  we  are  not  only  pulling  down,  we  are 
building  up  too.  That  poor  young  half-idiot,  Spool, 
had  good  counsel  last  week,  owing  to  our  fund,  and  he 
was  paroled,  as  he  should  be,  and  that  masterly  article 
the  Bishop  wrote  on  the  indeterminate  sentence,  — 
you  don't  know  what  heaps  of  letters  of  commendation 
I've  had  about  it.  We  are  doing  splendid  work, 
Dolores.  We  are  waking  people  up." 

"I've  been  nursing  an  idea  all  day,"  she  said  tenta- 
tively. 

"Then  I'm  sure  it's  well  enough  to  have  an  airing 
by  this  time,"  he  returned  smiling. 

"  How  would  it  do  to  get  plans  of  a  model  prison  and 
have  a  fine  cut  of  it  made  for  the  top  of  the  first  page  ? 
Offer  a  good  big  cash  prize  for  the  best  set  of  plans, 
then  get  up  a  popular  discussion  as  to  the  model  way 
to  administer  it.  Wouldn't  this  make  the  people 
think  about  it,  especially  if  you  could  get  some  well- 
known  people  to  write  about  it  ?" 

"That's  a  splendid  idea!"  he  exclaimed  enthusias- 
tically. 

"There  should  be  an  industry,  or  several  industries, 
in  a  city  prison,  if  it  is  to  be  remedial,"  she  said,  with 
conviction.  "Enforced  idleness  with  such  companions 
is  the  worst  thing  a  prisoner  could  have." 

171 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"And  there  should  be  more  people  employed  to  care 
for  and  teach  these  unevolved  brothers  and  sisters," 
said  Morello  with  emphasis.  "Think  of  the  number 
of  teachers  in  the  public  schools  and  not  one  where 
teaching  is  just  as,  I  think,  more  necessary." 

"And  they  should  be  of  just  as  high  a  class,"  supple- 
mented Dolores. 

"Indeed,  yes,  just  as  high,"  he  assented,  then  added: 
"Constance  telephoned  me  as  soon  as  she  reached 
home  this  afternoon." 

"It  was  good  of  her  to  come.     It  gave  me  courage." 

"She  said  she  loved  you  better  than  ever,  dear,  and 
that  is  saying  a  good  deal,  for  she  loved  you  much 
before,"  he  informed  her. 

"Did  she  say  that?"  with  an  inquiring  look. 

"She  did  emphatically,"  he  answered,  "and  I 
remember  thinking  as  she  talked  that  Dolores  need 
never  be  lonely  again  since  she  had  such  a  sweet  sister 
to  confide  in." 

She  clasped  her  hands  before  her,  thrilled  with  the 
entrancing  thought  of  such  a  friend — a  friend  who, 
knowing  the  worst  of  her,  was  a  friend  still. 

"  I  shall  never  be  so  lonely  again,  after  this,"  she  said 
feelingly.  "To  have  the  love  of  such  a  girl,  when  she 
knows  all  about  me  —  oh,  it  means  so  much  to  me." 


172 


CHAPTER  XVII 


"  AH,  Madam  Morello,  I'm  much  indebted  for  this 
call,"  said  the  Bishop  as  Jerry  showed  that  dignified 
lady  into  the  room.  "Let  me  wheel  this  chair  up  for 
you.  There  now,  pray  be  seated.  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  about  your  son." 

With  a  gracious  bow  the  lady  seated  herself  in  the 
easy-chair  designated.  "It  is  about  my  son  that  I 
came  to  talk  to  you,  Bishop,"  she  answered. 

"It's  really  the  pleasantest  topic  you  could  choose," 
he  returned.  "For  I  have  the  greatest  love  and  ad- 
miration for  that  young  man." 

"He  reciprocates  those  feelings.  You  must  know 
that,  I'm  sure." 

"I  hope  so,  Madam,  I  hope  so." 

"  I  know  he  does.  He  talks  of  you  a  great  deal.  It's 
always  what  the  Bishop  does,  what  the  Bishop  says, 
what  the  Bishop  thinks.  You  must  have  had  a  great 
influence  over  him  when  he  was  with  you." 

"We  had  great  influence  over  each  other.  My 
views  have  been  considerably  modified  in  the  last  year," 
said  the  Bishop  gravely. 

"But  still,"  she  persisted,  "you  had  great  influence 
over  him." 

173 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Yes,  I  believe  he  gave  consideration  to  my  views," 
he  answered. 

"  Yet,  when  he  thought  of  marrying,  you  did  not  try 
to  dissuade  him,"  she  said  reproachfully. 

"Try  to  dissuade  him  from  marrying!"  exclaimed 
the  Bishop  with  astonishment.  "No,  indeed,  I  did 
not !  I  should  have  been  no  friend  to  have  done  that. 
I  think  the  best  thing  any  young  man  can  do  is  to 
marry  and  settle  down  in  a  home  of  his  own." 

She  straightened  a  little  in  her  chair  and  her  voice 
became  a  little  more  assertive  as  she  returned : "  It  is  a 
very  good  thing  if  the  match  is  suitable.  In  this  case, 
Bishop,  it  was  a  mesalliance — a  horrible  mesalliance." 

"I  do  not  think  so,  Madam,"  said  the  Bishop  coldly. 

"Then  you  don't  know  the  circumstances!"  she 
exclaimed,  her  pent-up  wrath  and  misery  making  her 
voice  tremble.  "I  thought  as  much.  I  felt  sure  you 
could  not  have  known  about  the  girl.  We  were  going 
to  have  a  great  reception  for  her,  to  introduce  her  into 
society,  but  my  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Rawley,  saved  me 
from  that  mortification." 

"  I  know  what  there  is  to  know  about  the  misfortunes 
of  young  Mrs.  Morello,  Madam,  and,  knowing  them, 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I  consider  her  a  remarkably 
fine  woman!"  The  old  man  bent  a  searching  look  at 
his  handsome  visitor  as  he  thus  flung  the  gauntlet  down, 
and  an  expression  of  grim  determination  settled  upon 
his  face. 

"My  dear  Bishop,  I'm  sure  you  do  not  know  the 

174 


THE  TWO  CODES 

disgraceful  part  of  her  history,  or  you  think  much  less 
of  my  boy's  deserts  than  I  do,"  replied  the  lady  with 
some  asperity. 

"You  have  a  mother's  love  for  him,  and  I  have  a 
man's  understanding  and  a  clergyman's  loving  and 
just  estimation,"  he  replied. 

She  threw  all  pretence  of  affability  to  the  winds. 
Who  was  this  man  to  presume  to  know  more  of  her 
son  than  she,  herself,  did  ?  What  though  he  were  a 
Bishop?  No  one  was  so  near,  so  just,  so  loving,  as  a 
mother.  She  had  come  to  give  him  a  taste  of  a  mother's 
righteous  scorn,  if  she  found  him  cognizant  of  Dolores' 
story.  A  Bishop,  indeed!  Was  she  not  Madam 
Morello,  and  were  not  Prentiss'  ancestors  grandees  of 
Spain ! 

"  If  you  knew  the  disgraceful  part  of  that  girl,  Bishop, 
as  you  say,  you  should  have  exercised  all  your  authority 
and  friendship  to  prevent  the  marriage.  It  was  a  most 
unfilial  thing  of  him  to  do,  to  bring  me  low,  like  this; 
to  smirch  my  virtuous  life  with  prison  filth  and  the 
social  evil.  And, "  she  continued,  as  her  passion  rose, 
"you  looked  on  complacently  and  approved.  Good 
heavens !  You !  A  Bishop  of  the  Church !  Oh,  it  was 
most  shameful!  most  shameful!" 

The  Bishop  arose  and  stood  before  her,  a  gaunt, 
elderly  figure,  with  hands  clasped,  head  bent  slightly 
towards  her,  and  eyes  searching  her  very  soul. 

"You  thought,"  he  said,  without  a  trace  of  anger  in 
his  voice,  "that  I  acted  as  I  did  because  I  did  not 

175 


THE  DRAG-NET 

know  all  the  young  girl's  past.     Do  you  know  it?" 

"Of  course  I  know  it.     Mrs.  Rawley  told  me!" 

"How  did  she  come  by  it?" 

"All  the  town  knows  it.  Here  have  I  been  feeling 
so  happy,  so  contented  in  my  ignorance  of  the  sword 
hanging  over  my  head;  so  devoid  of  any  suspicion  of 
the  disgrace  lying  in  wait  for  me,  planning  to  do  good 
for  this  girl,  while  she — she — the  ingrate,  has  been 
striving  to  hide  her  shameful  career  from  me.  Oh,  it 
is  unbelievable." 

"  Calm  yourself,  Madam,"  he  advised  gently.  "  You 
are  mistaken  in  saying  that  all  the  town  knows  it.  She 
has  been  the  most  retiring  woman.  I'm  sure  that  your 
friend  is  just  as  ignorant  as  all  the  town." 

"Bishop,"  she  cried,  turning  on  him  excitedly, 
"  what  do  you  mean  ?  Is  not  my  word  enough  ?  Mrs. 
Rawley  told  me  what  Prentiss  admitted,  that  she  had 
been — she  had  been — seized,  in  an  unmentionable 
place  and  taken  to  jail,  and  that  my  son  took  her  from 
there  and  married  her." 

"Only  the  outward  facts,  only — " 

"Only,  only!"  she  interrupted,  turning  furious  eyes 
upon  him  and  rising  to  better  emphasize  her  contempt. 
"Oh,  you  men,  you  men!  I  tell  you  facts  are  facts, 
and  these  dreadful  facts  speak  for  themselves!  A 
Bishop  of  the  Church  to  excuse  such  doings !  It  shows 
the  corruption  of  the  age !  I  could  never  have  believed 
it,  never!" 

The  Bishop  flushed  and  his  expression  of  determi- 

176 


THE  TWO  CODES 

nation  deepened,  but  he  controlled  his  voice  and 
repeated :  "  I  still  say  you  know  only  the  outward  facts, 
which  would  bear  a  very  different  color,  if  explained  by 
the  young  woman  herself." 

A  short,  scornful  laugh  broke  from  her  and  she  beat 
her  left  hand  with  the  gloves  she  held  in  her  right;  but 
before  she  could  begin  further  denunciation  the  door 
opened  and  Prentiss  Morello  appeared,  his  clear  eyes 
and  pleasant  expression  in  strong  contrast  with  the 
anger-distorted  visage  of  his  mother. 

He  stopped  just  inside  the  door,  the  light  and  joy 
fading  instantly  from  his  face. 

"Pardon  me,  Mother.  I  did  not  know  you  were 
with  the  Bishop.  Another  time  will  do  for  me,"  he 
said,  bowing  and  turning  to  leave. 

"Another  time  will  not  do,"  hastily  returned  the 
Bishop.  "Come  back!  I  must  thank  old  Jerry  for 
letting  you  in.  He's  forgetful.  This  time,  though 
against  the  rules,  it  could  not  have  happened  better." 

Morello  closed  the  door  that  he  had  opened  and 
turned  his  face  to  them. 

"I  suppose  this  is  meant  as  a  dismissal  for  me," 
Madam  Morello  remarked  cuttingly. 

"  It  is  meant  as  an  invitation  for  you,  a  pressing  invi- 
tation, to  stay  and  hear  some  facts  from  one  who  can 
give  them  truly,  that  ought  to  change  your  position 
towards  this  affair,"  replied  the  Bishop  compellingly. 

"  I  am  not  one  to  be  won  over  by  specious  argument, 
Bishop  Woods,"  she  returned  icily,  ignoring  her  son. 

177 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"  Are  you  one  to  be  won  over  by  a  truthful  statement, 
Madam  ?  If  not,  there  is  no  help  for  my  dear  young 
friend  here,  and  we  will  excuse  you,"  the  old  man 
replied,  just  as  icily. 

She  straightened  in  her  high  moral  rectitude,  assumed 
a  look  of  martyrdom  and  answered: 

"Though  no  good,  I  am  assured,  can  come  of  going 
into  this  wretched  business,  still,  if  there  is  a  grain  of 
comfort  to  be  had,  I  want  to  have  it.  My  suffering  has 
been  greater  than  you  can  realize." 

"Let  your  son  relate  to  you  the  facts  that  really 
count,"  begged  the  Bishop  gently. 

"All  facts  count,"  she  snapped. 

"  Yes,  but  my  dear  lady,  you  are  old  enough  to  know 
that  outward  facts  may  sometimes  bear  false  witness 
without  the  underlying  facts  to  give  them  truthful 
color." 

Not  being  able  to  deny  this,  she  turned  coldly  to 
Morello  and  with  judicial  mien  inquired: 

"What  have  you  to  say  for  this  girl?" 

A  hot  color  surged  into  Morello 's  face  and  he  con- 
trolled his  voice  with  difficulty  as  he  asked: 

"Do  you  mean  my  wife,  Mother?" 

"  Of  course.  Who  else  has  made  me  ill  and  deprived 
me  of  all  the  joy  of  life?" 

"  If  we  are  to  talk  of  my  wife,  Mother,  there  must  be 
no  censorious  expressions.  I  owe  protection  to  her 
and  I  shall  protect  her,  even  against  my  mother,  if 
necessary,"  he  said  with  dignity. 

178 


THE  TWO  CODES 

"You  hear,  Bishop,  you  hear!"  she  cried,  turning  to 
the  clergyman.  "I  am  nothing,  I  am  not  to  be  con- 
sidered. It  is  a  case  of  glamour — there  is  such  a  thing. " 

Morel  lo  threw  out  his  hand  with  a  gesture  expressive 
of  the  futility  of  further  argument ;  and  the  Bishop,  with 
a  look  of  amazement,  addressed  the  mother. 

"  Madam,  if  you  will  kindly  forget  yourself  for  a  few 
moments,  you  may  perhaps  learn  a  little  about  your 
daughter-in-law  that  you  will  be  glad  to  know. " 

She  did  not  deign  to  reply  to  the  Bishop,  but  turned 
again  to  her  son. 

"If  you  have  anything  to  say,  any  excuse  to  make, 
for  pity's  sake,  say  it.  I  have  been  told  and  you  have 
admitted  that  she  was  not  respectable  and  that  you 
took  her  from  jail  to  marry  her." 

"I  have  not  admitted  either,  for  neither  of  these 
things  is  true.  She  is  as  respectable  as  any  woman 
living,  and  I  married  her  because  I  loved  her  and 
wished  to  protect  her.  I  took  her  from  the  jail  because 
she  ought  never  to  have  been  there.  It's  a  crime  on 
the  part  of  the  city,  as  it  is  on  the  part  of  every  city, 
when  the  sinned  against  are  incarcerated  and  the  arch- 
sinners  left  free,"  he  replied,  his  voice  ringing  with 
conviction. 

"If  respectable,  how  did  she  come  to  be  where  she 
was  ?"  asked  his  mother  with  the  air  of  hurling  a  poser. 

"She  was  taken  there  by  the  arch-sinner  who  con- 
cealed the  nature  of  the  place  from  her,"  he  replied. 

"  But  she  was  living  with  him  ?"  with  a  look  of  horror. 

179 


THE  DRAG-NET 

'*  She  was  married  to  him  in  the  sight  of  God,  Mother. 
She  went  through  the  common  law  ceremony,  which 
she  was  told  was  as  binding  as  any  in  this  state.  She 
was  ignorant  of  law  and  she  believed  this  man.  When 
he  wanted  to  marry  another  he  had  her  hidden  away  in 
the  jail.  He  is  wealthy  and  he  owns  some  of  the 
officials. " 

"  But  all  these  things,  even  if  as  you  say,  tainted  her, 
inoculated  her  with  disgrace  and  rendered  her  an  unfit 
wife  for  you — for  you — a  Morello!"  cried  his  mother 
bitterly. 

"I  —  a  Morello."  The  words  came  shaken  as  by 
an  inward  tumult,  and  he  repeated,  "I,  a  Morello." 

Then  he  raised  his  head,  looked  her  straight  in  the 
face  for  one  moment  and  dropped  his  eyes.  "  Mother, 
it  is  I  who  have  disgraced  the  name  of  Morello.  Dolores 
has  only  honored  it." 

"  You  ?  Bishop,  what  does  this  mean  ?  The  boy  is 
beside  himself.  He  was  the  best  boy,  the  best  son! 
Any  girl  in  the  land  would  have  been  proud  to  marry 
him,  and  he  — " 

"  Madam,  let  him  explain.  I  have  found  him  truth- 
ful, "answered  the  Bishop,  not  without  commiseration. 

"  Mother,  I,  a  Morello,  became  a  patrolman,  a  police- 
man, when  I  left  college,  just  because  I  had  nothing  to 
do,  and  I  thought  I  would  learn  something  of  the  under- 
world." 

"Oh,  mercy!  You,  my  son,  a  policeman?"  a  note 
of  fear  thrilling  through  her  words. 

180 


THE  TWO  CODES 

"Yes,  and  in  that  capacity  I  was  the  cause  of  the 
death  of  three  persons.  One  I  shot  through  the  heart, 
a  young  boy  who  had  done  no  harm." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  the  tears 
streamed  through  them.  "  Are  there  any  more  horrors 
to  hear?"  she  asked  tremulously. 

"  It  is  better  to  hear  all,  dear  lady,  and  to  know  you 
have  the  whole  story.  You  will  see  things  in  a  different 
light,  then,  I  hope,"  said  the  Bishop  gently. 

"I  shall  always  look  upon  myself  as  a  murderer, 
made  so  by  a  wrong  system  of  government,"  said  the 
son. 

"But  it  was  in  self-defence,  surely,"  she  moaned. 

"Yes,  but  there  should  never  have  been  any  cause 
for  self-defence.  It  is  one  of  my  misfortunes,  Mother." 

"But  this  was  no  reason  for  your  marrying  a  girl 
who,  if  not  intentionally  impure — " 

"  But  /  was  intentionally  impure ! "  he  thundered.  He 
was  so  wrought  upon  by  her  persistent  misconception 
of  Dolores'  character,  that  he  forgot  propriety  and 
raised  his  voice.  "  Yes,  Mother,  I,  in  my  college  days, 
was  intentionally  impure,  as  are  three-fourths  of  the 
college  men.  I  am  not  worthy  to  so  much  as  touch 
that  sweet  girl's  hand." 

"  Gracious  Heaven !  What  a  confession  for  a  mother 
to  hear!"  She  wrung  her  hands  and  paced  the  floor 
excitedly. 

"I  hoped  to  spare  you  all  this  pain,  Mother,  that  is 
why  I  did  not  tell  you  when  you  first  came.  You  were 

181 


THE  DRAG-NET 

fond  of  Dolores  then.  Can't,  can't  — "  wistfully,  "oh, 
can't  you  see  — " 

"No,  no;  I  can't  see  that  you  should  have  married 
her.  Surely  your  own  troubles  were  enough  without 
adding  a  wife  who  — " 

"  Stop,  Mother.  Speak  of  her  with  respect  or  not  at 
all,  please,"  he  said. 

"  I  hope  now  that  you  know  a  few  more  of  the  facts, 
Madam  Morello,  your  point  of  view  will  change  and 
you'll  see  that  you  can  enjoy  your  family  as  much  as 
you  expected,"  interjected  the  Bishop. 

"  Such  additional  facts ! ' '  the  lady  exclaimed.  "  They 
are  of  a  nature  to  conduce  to  enjoyment,  aren't  they?" 
sarcastically.  "Oh,  what  did  I  come  back  home  to, 
what  indeed  ?  We  will  go  away  again.  It  is  all  that 
is  left  to  Constance  and  me." 

The  Bishop  and  Morello  were  silent.  Neither  knew 
how  to  cope  with  her  peculiar  mind.  They  were  both 
men  who  needed  but  to  be  presented  to  the  reasonable 
point  of  view  to  assent  to  it.  But  here  was  a  mind 
whose  workings  neither  could  follow. 

"You  may  come  to  see  us,"  she  said  at  last,  glancing 
at  her  son,  "  but  I  will  not  receive  the  girl.  She  shouldn  't 
expect  it." 

"I  shall  not  trouble  you,  Mother,"  he  returned 
proudly,  "and  my  wife  prefers  to  stay  in  her  home." 

"  Prentiss,  how  ungrateful  you  are,  when  —  when  I 
give  way  so  much  as  to  overlook  your  unfilial  conduct!" 
Then  overcome  by  her  disappointment,  she  broke  out: 

182 


THE  TWO  CODES 

"  And  you  could  have  married  any  one,  any  one !  Oh, 
it  is  monstrous,  your  marriage!" 

"With  my  record,  Mother,"  he  began. 

"But  you  are  a  man,"  she  interrupted,  "and  it  is  not 
to  be  expected  —  that  is,  the  world  doesn't  —  Bishop," 
turning  to  the  amazed  clergyman,  "Bishop,  you're  a 
man  of  the  world  and  you  know — " 

"Madam,"  he  turned  accusing  eyes  upon  her  and 
his  stern  voice  checked  her  sophistry,  but  before  he 
could  say  more,  Morello  opened  the  door,  saying, 
"I'll  call  to-morrow  morning,  Bishop,"  bowed  to  his 
mother  and  was  gone. 

"It  is  as  well  that  he  is  not  present  to  hear  what  I 
am  going  to  say  to  you,  Madam,"  continued  the  Bishop, 
as  soon  as  the  door  closed,  "  and  what  I  say,  lay  to  your 
heart  and  think  of  it  at  night  when  you  retire.  It  is 
such  women  as  you,  condoning  the  immoralities  of 
men,  that  are  to  be  blamed  for  this  double  code  continu- 
ing in  the  world." 

"Such  women  as  I!"  she  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"Yes,  Madam,  such  women  as  you,  —  mothers, 
human  beings  occupying  the  highest  position  in  the 
world  —  for  all  the  world  looks  up  to  the  mothers  for 
precepts  of  truth,  morality,  love,  clear-seeing,  every- 
thing high  and  pure  and  good.  A  clergyman  is  no- 
where in  the  race  with  mothers,  and  when  one  of  them, 
like  you,  glosses  over,  in  a  man,  what  you  bitterly  con- 
demn in  a  woman,  it's  a  sight  to  make  a  good  man 
shrink  and  shiver!" 

183 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Bishop,  you  are  insulting!"  she  cried,  throwing 
out  her  hand  in  a  repellant  gesture. 

"  Think  as  you  like  about  that,  Madam,"  he  returned. 
"  It  does  not  matter  to  me  —  that ;  but  what  does  matter 
to  me  is  that  you  realize  what  a  son  you  have.  Of  all 
the  young  men  I've  ever  known,  Prentiss  Morello  is 
the  noblest,  finest,  most  just  and  incorruptible.  He 
has  touched  the  mountain  tops  of  thought,  of  virtue, 
of  real  nobility,  all  that  goes  to  raise  a  man  above  men, 
and  what  does  he  get  from  you  ?  A  petulant  rage,  an 
unrealizing  denunciation,  because  he  has  scaled  heights 
that  you  do  not  even  know  exist.  You  have  frittered 
away  your  existence,  Madam,  so  far,  but  now  you  can 
turn  if  you  will  and  learn  of  Prentiss  Morello.  I,  old 
as  I  am,  have  had  all  the  good  in  me  quickened  into 
greater  life  by  him.  I  thank  God  for  him,  for  my 
friend,  your  noble  son." 

"Oh,  this  is  insupportable!  You  are  both  mad 
men,  trying  to  upset  the  usage  of  the  ages!  Trying  to 
make  me  say  vice  is  virtue  and  to  say  that  my  son  is 
noble  because  he  took  a  girl  out  of  jail  and  married  her. 
Yes,  you  are  both  mad!" 

"There  will  come  a  time,  Madam,"  he  returned 
with  dignity,  "when  such  madness  as  ours,  dug  from 
out  the  age-long  rubbish-heap  of  fashionable  frivolities, 
inconsistencies  and  debasing  usages,  will  be  set  on  a 
mental  hilltop  as  the  shining  sanity  of  the  world." 

"  My  visit,  from  which  I  hoped  so  much,  has  proved 
a  dreadful  failure,"  sighed  the  lady,  gathering  up  her 

184 


THE  TWO  CODES 

fur  and  mantle.  "I'm  sure  I'm  astonished  at  you, 
Bishop  Woods ;  I  supposed  the  ethics  of  all  good  people 
the  same,  but  you  have  got  into  this  new-fangled  way 
of  perverting  ideas.  I  don't  know  what  the  world's 
coming  to,  I'm  sure.  When  clergymen  begin  to  ap- 
prove of  vice  and  to  think  nothing  of  being  in  jail  — 
oh,  really,  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said.  Good- 
morning  ! ' ' 

"  Good-morning,  Madam !" 

The  Bishop  opened  the  door,  closed  it  gently;  then, 
with  his  hands  locked  behind  him,  he  went  across  the 
room  and  looked  penetratingly  at  the  Mater  Purissima 
upon  the  wall,  impelled  by  a  memory. 

"Mater  Purissima,  Mater  Purissima,  there  are 
some  still  like  you,  thank  God,  thank  God,"  he  said 
fervently. 


185 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  ULTIMATUM 

MORELLO  realized  that  his  mother  would  have  to 
fight  a  long,  hard  battle  before  capitulation,  if,  indeed, 
she  ever  brought  herself  to  render  to  Dolores  her  due. 
A  life  of  pride  and  self-gratulation  had  hardened  her 
beyond  all  his  conceptions.  She  had  ever  been  a 
loving,  indulgent  mother  to  her  own  children  and,  in 
his  inexperience,  it  seemed  impossible  that  the  children 
of  other  women  should  be  shown  no  mercy  or  kindness 
when  circumstances  were  not  propitious  and  suspicious 
tongues  grew  noisy  with  their  affairs. 

He  was  much  hurt  and  disappointed  at  the  turn  of 
events.  He  had  thought  that  when  she  had  seen 
Dolores  and  had  learned  to  love  her,  explanations 
could  be  made  more  easily.  Little  by  little,  so  as  not 
to  shock  her  pride  too  much,  he  had  thought  the  reason 
for  their  retirement  might  be  made  known  to  her  and, 
while  she  would  chafe  and  fret  for  awhile  at  being 
jostled  by  such  rude  and  unthinkable  passages  in  life, 
still,  being  a  woman  and  a  mother,  she  must  yield  to 
justice  and  even  love,  where  they  were  so  obviously 
deserved. 

He  had  gone  from  the  Bishop's  depressed  and  un- 
happy. That  pride  could  be  so  intrenched  in  a  woman's 

186 


THE  ULTIMATUM 

heart;  that  the  superficial  view  could  be  so  stoutly 
maintained ;  that  the  manifest  justice  and  truth  brought 
forward  by  the  good  old  Bishop  could  be  so  indignantly 
and  unfeelingly  set  aside  by  his  own  mother,  wounded 
him  deeply;  but  he  saw  his  own  course  clearly  and 
resolved  to  pin  his  mind  down  to  business  and  the  sweet 
task  of  uncovering  for  Dolores'  eyes  a  nature  that  she 
might  some  time  learn  to  love. 

He  was  called  up  the  next  day  at  his  office  by  Con- 
stance. He  was  hopeful  in  a  moment  when  he  heard 
her  caressing  tones. 

"That's  you,  isn't  it,  Chummie?" 

"Yes,  dear.     What  is  it?" 

"Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  precious.  I  wanted  to 
say  something  nice  to  you  about  your  voice.  Why  is  it 
that  men  are  always  in  such  a  hurry  to  hang  up  ?  You 
only  begin,  just  get  out  a  word  or  two  and  then  they 
think  they  know  it  all,  and  click,  the  wires  are  off!  It 
isn't  right!  Don't  you  believe  in  being  deliberate, 
Chummie?  I  do.  Well,  now,  I  wanted  to  say  that 
there's  just  one  other  man's  voice  in  the  whole  world 
that  I  like  as  well  as  I  like  yours." 

"I'm  charmed  to  hear  it,  Connie,  but  I — " 

"Oh  no,  you  needn't  be  so  modest.  There's  only 
one  other  voice.  That  one  is  just  as  deep  and  mellow, 
and  manly,  and  tender,  and  cheerful,  and  sweet,  and 
loving,  and  — " 

"There,  there;  you  can't  find  another  if  you  try. 
How's  Mother  this  morning?" 

187 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Awful,  just  awful,  dearest,"  mournfully. 

"In  what  way?" 

"  Just  dreadfully  quiet !  It  makes  me  scared !  When 
she's  —  she's  obstreperous,  no,  she  couldn't  be  that  — 
oh,  I  can't  think  of  the  word,  but  you  know  —  why,  I 
don't  care,  for  I  know  she'll  work  it  off;  but  when  that 
stony  calmness  comes  over  her  and  her  lower  jaw 
looks  square,  there's  something  doing,  Chummie,  dear." 

"We  had  a  talk  yesterday  at  the  Bishop's  and  it 
upset  her." 

"I  should  think  it  did,  and  it's  doing  it  worse  and 
worse  all  the  time." 

"Well,  we  can't  help  it,  Connie.  Keep  up  your 
spirits.  The  Hon.  William  is  all  O.  K.  any  way,  you 
know." 

"She  doesn't  want  him  to  come  here  now.  She's 
planning  to  go  to  New  York  for  the  winter  so  he  can 
visit  us  there,  and  then  in  the  spring  to  Europe  again. 
I  don't  like  it  a  bit.  I  love  it  here  and  I  want  to  stay, 
and  I  want  him  to  know  you,  Chummie." 

"Cheer  up,  pet,  the  worst  may  be  yet  to  come,  but 
we'll  meet  it  as  becomes  Morellos.  I  must  go  now;  a 
man  is  waiting  all  this  time." 

"You  sweet  thing,  to  bother  with  me  so  long;  but, 
Prentiss,  Mother  told  me  to  call  you  up  and  tell  you 
she  wants  to  see  you.  I  almost  forgot  it." 

"Good,  good!     That  argues  well." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!     It  argues  a  decision  of  some  kind." 

"I'll  be  up  at  two  o'clock,  tell  her,  dear;  good-bye." 

188 


THE  ULTIMATUM 

Then  he  turned  to  his  business  again,  finding  it  hard 
to  connect  with  the  thoughts  promulgated  by  the  man 
who  had  been  waiting  before  the  telephone  rang. 

At  two  o'clock  promptly  he  entered  his  mother's 
house.  Constance  was  waiting.  She  was  very  pale 
and  tremulous  and  she  clung  about  his  neck  as  if  never 
to  let  him  go. 

"If  father  were  here  it  would  all  be  so  different," 
she  sobbed. 

"Yes,  I've  thought  of  that,  too,"  he  said  as  he  patted 
her  head. 

"You  look  like  him,  Chummie,  and  you  are  like 
him,  I'm  sure." 

He  kissed  her  for  answer  and  turned  towards  the 
library,  where  his  mother  waited. 

She  indicated  by  a  wave  of  her  hand  where  he  was 
to  sit  and  he  took  the  chair  obediently. 

"I  have  done  a  great  deal  of  thinking,  Prentiss, 
since  I  came  from  that  disagreeable  conference  yester- 
day and  I've  come  to  some  conclusions  which  you 
ought  to  know.  I  sent  for  Jenkins  and  I  had  him 
draw  up  a  will  for  me.  It  isn't  signed  yet.  Whether 
it  will  be  signed  remains  for  you  to  say.  I  want  to  get 
this  over  with,  because  we  shall  start  for  New  York  in 
about  four  weeks  and  one's  life  is  never  safe  when 
traveling." 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  going  away  so  soon, 
Mother.  I've  been  with  you  so  little  for  the  last  eight 
years,"  he  said  sadly. 

189 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"It  is  not  my  fault  that  I  am  going,  remember,"  she 
returned  bitterly.  "I  am  simply  driven  away.  I  had 
hoped  to  stay  in  my  own  country  for  at  least  two  or 
three  years  before  crossing  the  water  again;  but  it's  no 
place  for  me  now." 

To  this  he  returned  no  answer;  and  when  she  saw  he 
intended  no  denial  of  her  statement  she  hurried  into 
the  heart  of  the  matter  she  had  on  hand. 

"I  have  had  my  will  drawn  up,  as  I  said,  for  the 
purpose  of  preserving  my  property  in  case  of  death. 
The  way  you  are  squandering  your  own  fortune  has 
led  me  to  do  that.  I  am  convinced  that  so  blind  are 
you  to  your  own  interests  that  what  I  had  intended  to 
leave  you  would  simply  go  after  your  own.  I  can  see 
clearly  that  in  a  few  years,  a  very  few,  you  will  be  a 
poor  man.  You  will  then  look  back  on  this  period  of 
your  life  as  one  of  utter  madness;  but  that  I  am  in  no 
position  to  help.  I  can,  however,  place  my  fortune 
where  it  will  be  safe  and  properly  used.  It  goes  to 
Constance — every  dollar  of  it,  unless  you  agree,  in 
writing,  to  a  proposition  I  have  to  make. " 

"Let  me  hear  it,  Mother.  I  can  tell  in  a  moment 
whether  I  can  agree  or  not,"  he  said  calmly. 

She  sat  up  with  a  grander  air  and  issued  her  ulti- 
matum in  the  queenly  manner  she  loved  to  assume 
when  it  was  necessary  to  impress  a  listener  with  her 
power  and  dignity. 

"You  are  to  give  up  this  terrible  paper,  the  Drag- 
Net.  What  a  name!  but  appropriate,  very  appro- 

190 


THE  ULTIMATUM 

priate,  and  to  take  that  girl  back  to  her  people  in 
England.  You  can  pay  them  well  for  keeping  her  and 
then  for  at  least  two  years  —  three  would  be  better  — 
you  must  travel  around  the  world.  You  know  abso- 
lutely nothing  of  foreign  countries;  and  no  one's  educa- 
tion is  complete  without  the  knowledge  that  comes 
from  travel.  After  that,  if  you  still  wish  to  live  with 
Dolores,  we  can  decide  upon  a  place  of  residence  for 
you." 

The  whole  thing  struck  Morello  as  so  ridiculous  that 
he  laughed  disagreeably. 

"I  couldn't  have  believed  it,  Mother,"  he  returned; 
"no,  I  couldn't  have  believed  it!" 

"I've  no  doubt  you  reckoned  on  having  my  property 
to  throw  after  yours,  but  you  will  not  get  it.  Your 
Uncle  Thomas  will  see  that  Constance  is  not  won  over, 
either.  She  seems  to  be  easily  won  over.  That  girl 
told  her—" 

"Stop!"  said  Morello,  rising.  "What  you  say  of 
me  or  to  me  does  not  count ;  you  are  my  mother,  I  will 
remember  that;  but  I  will  allow  no  one  to  speak  lightly 
or  disrespectfully  of  Dolores.  Your  proposition  is 
preposterous;  it's  not  to  be  thought  of.  I  shall  stay 
here;  shall  publish  the  Drag-Net;  shall  try,  through  it, 
to  bring  some  of  the  colossal  scoundrels  to  justice; 
shall  work  for  a  clean  municipality;  shall  live  with  my 
wife  as  long  as  she  can  put  up  with  me,  which  I  hope 
will  be  always,  and  when  my  work  is  done  and  I'm 
older  and  need  a  rest,  we'll  go  on  a  trip  around  the 

191 


THE  DRAG-NET 

world  together.  That's  my  programme,  Mother,  and 
I  shall  stick  to  it." 

"Then  consider  yourself  disinherited!"  she  said, 
trembling  violently. 

"Try  to  quiet  yourself,"  he  said  pityingly.  "I'm 
very  sorry  to  be  such  a  trial  to  you.  I  had  thought  to 
be  just  the  opposite,  God  knows,  but  I  can't  see  how  to 
be  otherwise,  as  circumstances  are.  You  can  leave 
your  money  to  Constance,  Mother,  and  I  promise  you 
I  shall  never  try  to  get  any  part  of  it  from  her;  that  is 
the  only  promise  I  can  make,  but  it  ought  to  be  a  com- 
fort, thinking  as  you  do.  Is  there  anything  else  you 
wish  to  say?" 

"No,  nothing  else." 

"Good-afternoon,  then.  I'm  very  busy,  so  I'll  get 
back  to  the  office  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  Good-afternoon." 

"You're  a  faithful  little  sentinel,  dear,"  he  said  as  he 
found  Constance  alone  near  the  outer  door. 

"Did  she  leave  you  the  teeniest  bit  of  comfort, 
Chummie?"  she  asked,  turning  appealing  eyes  upon 
him. 

"Yes,  a  whole  lot;  you  are  to  step  right  into  my 
shoes,  while  I'm  still  living." 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  funny  boy?" 

"You're  the  whole  shooting-match!"  he  said  flip- 
pantly, to  cover  the  seriousness  of  the  occasion;  "you're 
it!  The  entire  estate  goes  to  you." 

He  went  out  of  the  door  with  a  laugh  as  he  said  it, 

192 


THE  ULTIMATUM 

and  when  she  realized  what  he  meant  she  called  after 
him  as  he  swung  down  the  walk: 

"You  blessed  old  angel,  I  won't  take  it!     I  won't 
take  it!" 


193 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LAVENDER  AND  ROSE 

ON  THE  way  back  to  the  office,  as  he  was  about  to 
cross  the  street,  Morello  was  almost  run  down  by  a  big, 
red  touring  car.  As  he  sprang  aside,  his  eyes  met  those 
of  Fane  Redding. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  I  beg  your  pardon, "  Redding  called  out. 

Morello  did  not  reply,  but  passed  on  rapidly.  Did 
the  man  know  him?  It  was  not  likely.  Their  paths 
had  never  crossed.  He  had  hoped  they  never  would 
cross;  but  he  felt  sure  that  when  the  list  of  names  was 
published  he  would  be  heard  from.  However,  it  could 
not  be  helped.  Whenever  the  thought  of  that 
man  came  into  his  mind  hot  thrillings  of  hatred  surged 
through  his  veins  and  elemental  emotions  took  entire 
possession  of  him.  He  did  not  admire  such  a  state  and 
made  it  a  point  to  oust  Redding  from  his  mind.  It  was 
more  difficult  to-day  in  view  of  what  was  to  come  in  the 
near  future. 

His  mother's  action  was  a  blow  to  him;  not  because 
of  the  alienation  of  his  just  inheritance  so  much,  but 
because  it  disclosed  enmity  and  displeasure  far  deeper 
than  he  had  believed  possible.  He  had  always,  deep 
down  in  his  heart,  optimistically  thought  it  but  a 
matter  of  time  when  she  would  gracefully  yield  to  the 

194 


LAVENDER  AND  ROSE 

inevitable  and  allow  herself  to  be  won  over  by  Con- 
stance's championship,  his  own  non-combating  atti- 
tude and  Dolores'  humility. 

He  was  not  at  all  sure  of  this  now,  as  he  threaded  his 
way  through  the  throng  on  the  street,  and  he  found 
himself  hurrying  through  the  work  that  waited,  that  he 
might  get  home  to  that  haven  of  peace  and  rest,  the 
bungalow,  and  see  Dolores  moving  about  in  her  quiet 
way;  or  sit  in  the  depths  of  an  arm-chair  and  watch  her 
at  the  piano,  her  white  fingers  calling  forth  the  gentle 
melodies  that  he  loved. 

Fenleigh,  middle  aged,  robust,  kindly,  stern,  holding 
his  chief  in  idealistic  admiration,  kept  his  finger  on  the 
latter 's  mental  pulse  and  knew  almost  better  than 
Morello  did  himself  when  things  were  going  wrong. 
So  when  the  work  dragged,  owing  to  the  events  that  he 
could  not  disengage  from  his  mind,  he  spoke  up. 

"I  can  attend  to  all  the  rest  here  to-day  if  you've 
anything  outside  that  wants  doing." 

Morello  stopped  mixing  some  papers  that  should 
have  been  separated,  looked  at  Fenleigh  and  under- 
stood. 

"You're  right,  I'm  not  fit  this  afternoon,  that's  a 
fact.  I'll  leave  the  office  to  you,  Fenleigh,  and  go  home. 
I  can  get  there  before  dark  if  I  hurry.  If  Johnson  and 
Mann  come  in  about  these  saloons,  call  me  up.  I  must 
talk  to  them." 

"All  right,  I'll  see  to  everything.     Be  off,  now,  boy!" 

Fenleigh  delighted  to  use  a  peremptory  tone  now  and 

195 


THE  DRAG-NET 

then  in  a  fatherly  fashion  when  no  one  was  about,  and 
Morello  endeared  himself  all  the  more  to  him  by  smiling 
compliance  with  the  mode  of  speech. 

He  caught  a  car  without  a  moment's  waiting  and 
reached  home  before  the  sun  had  sunk  below  the  horizon. 

He  entered  the  house  and,  not  finding  Dolores  there, 
he  went  into  the  garden,  for  she  always  was  to  be  found 
in  one  place  or  the  other. 

Not  seeing  her  outside  at  one  of  the  many  luxuriant 
beds  of  blossoms,  he  went  into  the  pergola  and  there,  at 
the  further  end,  she  crouched  upon  the  ground,  a  heap 
of  flaming  chrysanthemums  at  her  feet,  her  face  hidden 
in  her  arms,  which  rested  on  one  of  the  rustic  seats. 

"Dolores,"  he  said,  a  great  fear  taking  possession  of 
him,  " Dolores,  what  is  it  ?  What's  the  matter?" 

She  only  pressed  her  face  still  closer  in  her  arms, 
stirring  uneasily  as  she  did  so. 

He  debated  with  himself  a  moment;  then,  remem- 
bering Constance's  advice  to  be  masterful  on  occasions 
demanding  such  conduct,  he  went  up  to  her  and,  say- 
ing, "  Come,  dear,"  he  stooped  and  lifted  her  from  the 
ground. 

"Don't!  oh,  don't  touch  me!"  she  exclaimed,  shrink- 
ing away  from  his  arm.  He  saw  that  her  eyes  were 
swollen  with  weeping  and  that  she  was  trembling. 

"You  must  tell  me  what  has  happened  to  cause  you 
this  suffering,  Dolores.  I'm  the  one  to  be  told  and,  if 
there  is  anything  to  be  done  to  help  you  recover  your 
calmness,  I'm  the  one  to  do  it!"  he  exclaimed  positively. 

196 


LAVENDER  AND  ROSE 

"There's  nothing  to  be  done,"  she  sobbed.  "You 
can  do  nothing,  I  can  do  nothing.  I've  just  got  to  live — 
somehow — with  things  as  they  are." 

"Mother  has  been  annoying  you,"  he  said  with 
conviction. 

"Oh,  no!  oh,  no!     I've  not  heard  from  her  at  all." 

"Then  what  is  it  ?  I  shall  imagine  all  sorts  of  things 
if  you  don't  tell  me." 

"It's  nothing  but  what  I  knew  must  happen  some 
day,  Mr.  Morello.  I  was  gathering  my  chrysanthe- 
mums when  a  big  automobile  filled  with  laughing 
people  came  by.  Fane  Redding  was  driving.  He  saw 
me." 

Morello's  hands  knotted  themselves  as  usual,  but  his 
tone  was  careless  enough. 

"And  you  have  been  wrought  up  over  it.  Well,  I 
suppose  that  was  natural,  but  don't  be  again,  little  girl. 
Don't!  He's  not  potential  in  your  life  any  more,  he's 
simply  nil,  a  negligible  quantity,  not  worth  a  thought." 

She  stooped  and  began  picking  up  her  flowers  and 
Morello  helped  her.  "I  managed  to  get  off  early  to- 
night," he  explained.  "  Old  Fenleigh  likes  to  be  left  in 
charge,  and  I  wanted  to  get  home  before  dark  for  once. 
You  don't  know  how  sweet  the  picture  of  this  cozy 
bungalow  is  to  me.  Sometimes  when  I'm  sick  at  heart 
with  all  the  scheming  and  lying  and  falsifying  for  the 
sake  of  money  that  we  hear  of  down  in  the  city,  there 
comes  up  in  my  mind,  by  way  of  contrast,  this  quiet 
retreat  with  the  birds  and  flowers,  the  wonderful  valley 

197 


THE  DRAG-NET 

and    the   everlasting   mountains   overlooking   all;   my 
sweet  wife  giving  the  finishing  touch  of  perfection  — 

0  Dolores,  you  can't  tell  what  it  means  to  me.     It 
steadies  me  for  my  work." 

She  turned  towards  him  apologetically.  "I  feel," 
she  said,  "that  I  give  you  slight  return  for  all  your 
kindness  to  me;  but  I  do  appreciate  it  and  —  and  you 
and  the  bungalow.  I'm  ashamed  of  being  so  weak,  so 
easily  moved,  and  of  my  lack  —  my  lack.  Events 
seem  to  manage  me  always.  I  never  manage  events, 
as  I  ought.  I  was  taken  unawares  just  now  and  — 
and  — " 

"Yes,  I  understand.  You'll  not  care,  next  time,  I 
know."  Then,  to  get  her  mind  away  from  the  past,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Just  see  the  lavender  creeping  over  every- 
thing; valley  and  mountain  and  ocean  all  lavender  and 
rose.  Isn't  it  glorious?" 

"There  couldn't  be  anything  more  beautiful,"  she 
answered. 

"  But  some  day  even  this  will  be  more  perfect  to  you, 

1  hope." 

"How  could  it  be?" 

"There's  a  feeling  that  changes  all  things.  I  have 
no  words,  but  I  know  a  few  verses  that  always  seemed 
to  me  to  express  it  so  well.  Sit  here,  dear,  and  let  me 
say  them  to  you.  You  did  not  know  that  I  cared  for 
poetry,  did  you  ? — we've  had  such  a  strenuous  life  since 
you  came.  But  I  do,  I  love  it.  Now  listen.  It's 
called  '  Yesterday  —  To-day.'" 

198 


LAVENDER  AND  ROSE 

"And  so  you  love  me!    Yesterday 
I  did  not  think  such  joy  could  e'er  be  mine, 
I  thought  the  world  a  place  of  wretched  ties,  — 
A  place  in  which  a  mortal  lives  and  dies 
And  suffers  always.     But  this  vow  of  thine 
Hath  turned  life's  bitter  waters  into  wine. 

"  When  I  walked  out  but  yesterday, 
A  beggar  plaining  on  the  noisy  street 

My  cold  attention  claimed;  for  alms  appealed; 

The  fountain  of  my  tenderness  was  sealed. 
To-day  I'd  give  my  all  and  wash  his  feet. 
Thy  love  hath  made  such  ministering  sweet 

"And  now  I  think,  but  yesterday 
I  looked  on  death  with  an  indifferent  eye, 

And  wondered  the  bereaved  ones  suffered  so; 

To-day  I'd  weep  in  sympathetic  woe 

For  I  can  feel  how  drear  this  world  would  be 
Without  this  new-born  love,  dear  heart,  and  thee. 

"But  yesterday  a  desert  world; 
To-day  a  realm  of  bliss  and  ecstacy. 
Oh,  can  it  be  the  works  of  God  above 
Are  rightly  seen  but  through  the  eyes  of  love  ? 
All  things  are  changed.     My  very  soul's  unbound. 
My  eyes  hath  colors  new,  my  ears  new  sound. 
Life  swings  its  perfume  censer  wide  and  free, 
And  sorrow  is  no  more  —  thou  lovest  me." 

199 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Her  face  flushed  as  she  listened.  Well  did  she 
know  that  bliss  and  ecstacy;  but  those  fires  had  burned 
out  and  her  heart  was  buried  deep  in  their  cold  ashes. 
This  noble  gentleman  —  what  a  man  he  was !  How 
everything  that  a  man  ought  to  be,  seemingly;  but 
love,  in  her,  had  been  killed  violently  and  those  dying 
pangs  still  sickened  her. 

"It's  very  beautiful,"  she  said  faintly,  "and  true." 

"I'm  sure  it  is,  Dolores,  for  I  have  found  it  out. 
Look,  dear,  over  the  valley.  The  lavender  and  rose 
are  going  and  it  seems  as  if  the  darkness  falls  in  cadences 
and  measures,  doesn't  it?" 

"  I've  been  enjoying  it  so  every  night,"  she  returned, 
"but  to-night  I'm  too  full  of  bitterness  to  be  responsive 
to  anything  good  or  beautiful  or  true." 

"It  would  be  wonderful  if  you  were  not,  under  the 
circumstances,"  he  said  understandingly,  "but  the 
good,  the  beautiful,  the  true  will  win  yet  and  you  will 
remember  this  whole  passage  in  your  life  as  but  a  fitful 
dream.  This  love  — " 

"Don't,  please  don't,"  she  implored,  turning  her 
beautiful  eyes  towards  him.  "It  pains  me  to  think 
you  are  so  certain,  and  I'm  sure  you  will  be  disappointed 
in  me.  I'm  like  a  convalescent  —  one  who  has  fought 
and  conquered  a  great  fever  and,  looking  back  upon  it, 
the  fever  is  horrible  to  me.  Love!  The  word  is  hate- 
ful to  me.  It  is  like  a  fever." 

"You  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life,  dear," 
he  returned,  gently  but  decisively.  "The  counterfeit 

200 


LAVENDER  AND  ROSE 

is  a  fever,  if  you  will,  but  the  real  is  that  which  heals 
the  fever.  It  is  pre-eminent  self-abnegation.  It  is 
reasonableness,  clear-seeing.  It  is  akin  to  that  which 
spreads  this  lavender  and  rose  for  us  to-night;  which 
carries  these  odors  to  us  from  the  garden;  which  is 
expressed  in  the  highest  harmonies.  It  is  all  the  good 
there  is  in  God's  world;  but  there  is  a  counterfeit,  and 
you  have  well  called  it  a  fever." 

"This  is  what  I  have  experienced,  the  fever,  the 
delirium.  It  was  not  self-abnegation.  It  was  all  self, 
self,"  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands.  "I  did  not 
analyze,  I  only  felt;  and  my  feelings  and  emotions  rend 
me.  All  I  look  for  now  is  a  quiet  heart." 

"That  will  come,  is  bound  to,  and  after  that  you 
will  learn  to  analyze,  I'm  sure.  Now  I'll  go  in  and 
make  myself  presentable  for  dinner." 


201 


Too  PLAIN  A  FACT 

DOLORES  passed  a  bad  night,  and  Morello,  who  had 
not  done  much  better,  noticed  her  heavy  eyes  and  pale 
cheeks  the  next  morning  at  breakfast.  Neither  referred 
to  the  events  of  the  night  before.  His  mother's  disposi- 
tion of  the  property  he  had  not  intended  mentioning 
and  he  hoped  she  would  not  hear  of  it  from  any  other 
source;  and  the  advent  of  Fane  Redding  upon  the 
scene  was  best  treated  with  silence. 

There  were  so  many  subjects  of  common  interest  for 
them  that  conversations  never  lagged  and  the  break- 
fasts and  dinners  were  times  of  delight  to  Morello. 
This  morning,  after  dwelling  upon  some  phases  of  his 
work  for  the  day  he  remarked,  smilingly,  "when  you 
get  too  much  of  this  shop-talk  let  me  know,  will  you, 
Dolores?" 

"  But  I'm  as  interested  as  you  are,  so  I  can't  get  too 
much  of  it,"  she  returned.  "I  wish  I  could  do  more. 
I  wish  I  could  go  with  Mrs.  Sanford,  but  that  is  more 
than  I  could  bear,  yet." 

"I'm  glad  of  the  yet,"  he  said.  "You  will  be  able 
to  go  about  anywhere  at  any  time  and  do  anything 
you  like  with  a  calm,  brave  heart,  sometime.  I,  the 
prophet,  say  it." 

202 


TOO  PLAIN  A  FACT 

Before  she  could  reply  the  maid  entered  and  told 
them  that  a  man  was  at  the  kitchen  door  asking  for 
work. 

Morello  arose,  excused  himself,  and  went  out  to  talk 
to  the  man.  He  was  gone  but  a  few  moments. 

"  The  poor  wretch  was  so  hungry  that  I  thought  the 
best  thing  I  could  do  was  to  feed  him,  so  I  ordered 
Salina  to  give  him  all  he  could  eat.  He's  dreadfully 
emaciated.  Was  that  right,  little  housekeeper?" 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  could  do  less,"  she  answered. 
"He  may  be  'the  hundredth  man,'  you  know." 

"  Yes,  he  may  be  '  the  hundredth  man ' ;  but  if  he  were 
not,  it  would  be  all  the  same  to  me, —  he  would  have  to 
be  fed  and  helped." 

"Yes,  because  it's  what  you  do,  not  what  he  does, 
that  counts  for  you." 

"Exactly.  The  spectacle  of  a  hungry  human  being 
always  upsets  me  dreadfully." 

"You've  always  had  wealth?" 

"Yes,  comparatively  speaking." 

"  Yet  it's  generally  true,  I  think,  that  those  who  have 
suffered  have  most  commiseration." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  is,  but  I  have  commiseration.  This 
man  looks  very  sick.  He  isn't  fit  to  work,  but  I  sup- 
pose we  must  give  him  some  work.  Can  he  do  any- 
thing among  your  flowers,  Dolores?" 

"Yes;  Stephen  isn't  coming  to-day." 

"  Very  well,  then,  you  can  direct  him.  His  face  looks 
familiar.  I  think  I  have  seen  him  before. " 

203 


THE  DRAG-NET 

When  the  breakfast  was  over  Morello  went  into  the 
kitchen  and  found  the  man  waiting. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I've  seen  you  before,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  me?" 

The  man  hastily  gave  Morello  an  examining  look, 
then  answered,  "Don't  know's  I  have." 

"You  seem  sick." 

"lam." 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?     Do  you  live  in  town  ?  " 

The  man  turned  sullen.  "I'm  asking  for  work," 
he  said. 

"I'm  not  prying  into  your  affairs  from  curiosity," 
Morello  assured  him.  "I've  seen  you  somewhere.  I 
publish  the  Drag-Net.  It's  a  paper  having  for  its 
object  better  conditions  for  the  poor,  through  an  honest 
administration  of  public  office,  also  a  decent  jail,  one  in 
which  a  self-respecting  man  could  be  confined  without 
contracting  tuberculosis  or  coming  in  such  vicious  con- 
tact with  hardened  criminals.  It's  a  foul  place,  that 
jail." 

"It's  hell!"  snapped  the  man. 

"How  long  since  you  were  released?"  Morello 
knew  now  where  he  had  seen  the  man. 

"Twenty-four  hours,  and  that  is  the  first  meal 
I'veet." 

"They  returned  you  the  money  they  took  away 
from  you,  didn't  they?" 

"Yes,  and  here  it  is,"  the  man  went  down  into  his 

204 


TOO  PLAIN  A  FACT 

ragged  trousers  and  produced  a  dime.  I  didn't  dare 
spend  it  till  I  was  starving,"  he  said. 

The  door  opened  and  Dolores,  with  a  pretty  white 
shawl  and  sunbonnet,  entered.  She  was  ready  to  give 
the  man  instructions  about  the  garden  work. 

"Wait  a  little,"  said  Morello,  looking  at  her.  She 
seated  herself.  Then  to  the  man,  who  was  shifting 
about  nervously: 

"  This  is  my  wife.  She  will  tell  you  what  to  do,  but 
first  I  want  to  ask  you  a  few  questions." 

"I'm  released  all  right,"  the  man  returned  suspi- 
ciously. "I  didn't  make  any  get-away." 

"That's  all  right.  I'm  not  thinking  of  arresting 
you;  I  wouldn't  if  you  had  escaped.  I  wouldn't 
return  any  human  being  to  that  city  jail,"  answered 
Morello,  flushing  at  his  remembrances.  "How  long 
were  you  there?" 

"Three  months." 

"Chain  gang?" 

"Yes." 

"Were  you  ill  before  that?" 

"No,  I  was  jest  out  o'  work  —  starvin'." 

"What  was  the  charge?" 

"Burglary." 

"Private  house?" 

"No,  grocery.  I  was  starvin'!  I  wanted  somethin' 
to  eat.  You'd  do  jest  the  same  ef  yer  insides  wasn't 
larded  any  better  'n  mine." 

"Maybe  I  would." 

205 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Course  you  would.  Anybody  would  if  he  wasn't 
a  fool.  A  man  ain't  got  no  call  to  starve,  has  he  ?" 

"No." 

"An'  then,  cause  I  wouldn't  lay  down  and  die,  like  a 
fool,  with  plenty  of  food  all  'round  me,  they  claps  me 
into  jail  with  a  cell  mate  who  has  consumption,  and 
that's  what  I've  got  now;  an'  I  give  the  city  all  these 
months  of  labor  an'  I  don't  get  nothing  for  it;  but 
when  my  time  is  up  they  lets  me  out  to  starve  again." 

The  man  was  evidently  full  of  his  grievances  and 
Morello  was  full  of  sympathy,  for  the  story  was  old  to 
him.  He  had  a  committee  to  look  after  these  released 
men,  but  many  of  the  men  did  not  know  of  it,  and 
would  not  report  if  they  did.  They  were  the  worst 
ones. 

"Wot  right  has  a  man  got  to  starve?"  asked  the 
man  excitedly. 

"None,"  said  Morello  with  conviction. 

"Wot's  the  matter  with  every  city  and  town  seein' 
that  nobody  starves  in  it?" 

"It's  what  they  ought  to  do." 

"What's  the  matter  with  every  city  and  town  havin' 
a  public  working  place  w'ere  any  man  'n'  woman,  that 
couldn't  get  work  anywhere  else,  could  go  an'  work  an' 
earn  enough  to  feed  'em,  till  they  could  find  a  place  to 
earn  wages?" 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  that  plan,  my 
friend.  It's  just  what  the  Drag-Net  has  been  advo- 
cating," said  Morello  earnestly. 

206 


TOO  PLAIN  A  FACT 

"Then  w'y  don't  they  do  it?" 

"They  haven't  waked  up  to  the  fact  that  it's  a 
criminal  omission  not  to  do  it." 

"An'  what  right  have  they  to  put  a  man  with  a  no- 
lunger,  no  matter  what  ees  done?" 

"Not  a  vestige  of  a  right!" 

"Ef  a  man's  committed  murder,  even,  wot  right  'ave 
they  to  give  'im  a  desease  eel  die  of?" 

"No  right." 

"They  may  have  the  right  to  give  'im  the  juice  or 
the  hemp,  but  I  say  they've  got  no  right  to  give  him  a 
disease." 

"Not  one  of  these  three  is  right,  my  friend." 

"I  guess  you're  a  socialist,  ain't  you  ?" 

Morello  laughed.  "I  wonder  why  it  is,"  he  said, 
"that  when  I  talk  the  merely  decent  and  obvious  rules 
of  humanity,  I'm  sure  to  be  called  a  socialist.  Now 
there  is  a  socialism  that  is  the  most  scatter-brained 
philosophy  extant  and  there  is  a  socialism  that  is  as  old 
as  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  I  like  that  kind." 

"  'Tain't  makin'  great  progress  fer  all  its  age,"  said 
the  man  grimly. 

"  I  grant  it's  slow,  if  you  don't  remember  what  it  had 
to  controvert  —  the  death-like  grip  of  that  which  it  had 
to  supersede." 

The  man  did  not  follow  him  and  Morello  said: 

"My  wife  will  show  you  what  to  do  to-day,  and 
to-morrow  come  to  this  address  and  we'll  see  what  we 
can  do  for  you  permanently." 

207 


THE  DRAG-NET 

The  man  took  the  card  handed  to  him  and  looked  at 
it  uncertainly,  saying  nothing. 

"You'll  come?"  asked  Morello. 

"  Why  must  I  come  there  ?  Why  can't  I  sleep  here 
in  the  shed  an'  see  you  in  the  mornin',  'ere?"  ques- 
tioned the  man  anxiously. 

"  Why  can't  you  come  to  my  office  and  report  to  the 
committee?" 

"  I  want  to  keep  away  from  the  sheriff's  men.  They'll 
nab  me  sure  an'  run  me  in  again.  It's  two  dollars  an' 
a  arf  for  them." 

Morello  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  gave  the  man  a 
pitying  glance.  He  knew  how  true  this  state  of  things 
was  and  could  not  deny  the  danger  he  was  in,  but  he 
did  not  want  him  about  the  premises  long.  He  was 
not  able  to  work  and  should  have  medical  attendance. 

"I  have  it,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  consideration. 
"  I'll  write  a  letter  for  you  to  deliver  to  me  and,  if  any 
one  molests  you,  show  him  that  sealed  letter  addressed 
to  me.  They'll  let  you  go  quicker  than  they  took  you 
up,  that  is,  if  you  are  attending  to  your  business.  They 
are  beginning  to  have  a  wholesome  regard  for  the  Drag- 
Net  and  want  to  keep  out  of  its  meshes." 

"  I'll  go  there  if  you  leave  this  letter  for  me,"  answered 
the  man. 

"All  right.  Now  my  wife  will  show  you  what  she 
wants  done." 

The  man  began  to  cough  violently  and  went  outside, 
taking  a  soiled  rag  out  of  his  pocket  as  he  did  so. 

208 


TOO  PLAIN  A  FACT 

"Poor  wretch!"  exclaimed  Morello. 

"It  sounded  true,"  said  Dolores. 

"I  don't  know  whether  he  is  telling  the  truth  about 
himself,  but  what  he  said  about  our  beautiful  penal 
system  and  the  jail  is  true,  and  the  sheriff's  men,  too. 
They  do  follow  the  poor  creatures  up.  I  know  that  to 
be  true;  and  how  can  a  man,  handicapped  as  this  man 
is,  become  a  person  with  a  visible  means  of  support 
and  a  house  to  live  in,  all  in  a  day  or  a  week.  The 
whole  thing  is  an  abomination." 

"The  remedy  is  so  plain,"  said  Dolores. 

"  Too  plain !  If  they  had  to  dig  it  up  in  some  stren- 
uous way,  it  might  be  done;  but  when  it  is  right  under 
the  nose  it's  overlooked.  It's  slower  getting  people  to 
see  this  remedy  than  finding  the  north  pole.  I  think 
the  poor  thing  is  ready  for  you,  dear,"  looking  out  of 
the  kitchen  window. 

"How  much  shall  I  pay  him?"  asked  the  young 
wife. 

"  Three  dollars,  and  see  that  he  has  two  good  meals. 
I  must  be  off  now.  Good-morning." 

The  man  worked  well,  striving  in  every  way  to 
understand  what  was  wanted  of  him  and  to  carry  it 
out.  Dolores,  going  out  from  time  to  time  to  direct 
him  in  making  the  beds,  told  him  not  to  hurry,  that 
there  was  no  need  of  working  so  hard ;  and  he  was  awk- 
ward and  silent  under  the  kindness,  having  so  long 
dealt  only  with  cruelty  and  suspicion. 

She  stopped  him  before  it  grew  dark,  saw  that  he 

209 


THE  DRAG-NET 

had  a  last  good  meal,  paid  him  and  sent  him  on  his 
way.  This  little  help  in  the  good  work  made  her  so 
happy  that  she  called  up  Morello  at  his  office  —  a 
thing  she  seldom  did  —  just  to  relate  to  him  how  the 
day  had  passed. 

"Thank  you  for  letting  me  know,  Dolores,"  he 
answered;  "I  was  just  wondering  if  you  had  gotten 
him  off." 


210 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ELEMENTAL  PASSIONS 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  attitude  of  Madam  Morello 
and  the  mental  disturbance  created  within  her  by  the 
sight  of  the  man  who  was  the  cause  of  all  her  suffering, 
Dolores  was  lighter  hearted  the  next  day  than  she  had 
been  for  some  time.  She  even  began  to  plan  joining 
forces  with  Mrs.  Sanford.  Constance  had  given  them 
her  impressions  of  the  work  done  by  that  lady  and  it 
appealed  strongly  to  her.  Then  was  it  not  her  hus- 
band's work  also,  trying  to  better  the  conditions  of  the 
prisoners  ?  It  was  the  first  time  this  had  come  to  her 
as  a  reason  for  doing  a  thing,  showing  that  she  did  not, 
in  reality,  hold  herself  as  detached  as  her  words  to 
Morello  indicated. 

She  knew  her  worker  of  the  day  before  would  be 
taken  care  of  by  the  committee.  In  response  to  a 
message  from  Morello  she  had  just  wrapped  up  and 
dispatched  to  the  office  a  half-worn  suit  of  her 
husband's  for  the  man,  who  had  evidently  gotten 
through  the  cordon  of  plain  clothes  men;  and  she  had 
added,  of  her  own  accord,  a  half  dozen  of  his  fine 
linen  handkerchiefs.  She  flushed  as  she  did  this, 
wondering  if  she  were  not  taking  unwarrantable  liber- 
ties with  his  effects. 

211 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Altogether,  she  was  beginning  to  feel  that  she  was  of 
some  use  in  the  world ;  and  suddenly,  as  later  she  sat  in 
the  wide  porch  that  overlooked  the  garden,  thinking 
that  it  would  be  but  an  hour  when  the  lavender  and 
rose  appeared  again  upon  the  mountain  and  valley  and 
sea,  she  seemed  to  realize  what  this  awakening  to  inter- 
est, to  appreciation,  meant.  The  English  parsonage 
faded  into  the  background.  She  was  conscious  of  a 
dread  of  the  answer  to  her  letter. 

Just  as  she  was  thinking  of  those  English  lanes  and 
of  the  one  lane  in  particular  when  first  she  had  met 
Fane  Redding,  she  heard  a  step.  Knowing  it  to  be 
much  too  early  for  her  husband,  she  arose  and  went  to 
the  end  of  the  porch  to  see  who  it  might  be  and  he,  the 
bold  lover  of  those  never-to-be-forgotten  days,  came 
buoyantly  up  the  path  as  though  expecting  a  welcome. 

She  had  never  imagined  that  anything  like  this 
could  take  place,  and  her  unpreparedness  deprived  her 
of  power  for  a  moment,  but  only  for  a  moment.  The 
power  came  swinging  back  with  an  intensity  that 
thrilled  her;  power  not  only  over  her  physical  body, 
but  over  her  mind  as  well. 

Even  as  she  beheld  him,  he,  hearing  the  step  upon 
the  porch,  looked  up  and  saw  her  like  a  picture,  framed 
in  the  drooping  wistaria  vines. 

"Stop!"  she  cried,  "and  go  away  and  never  dare  to 
come  here  again." 

"Oh,  come  now,"  he  said  smiling;  "you  won't  set 
the  dog  on  me,  will  you,  such  an  old  friend  — " 

212 


ELEMENTAL  PASSIONS 

He  advanced  as  he  talked  and  she  saw  that  he  had 
no  thought  of  paying  any  attention  to  her  wishes, 
having  evidently  expected  a  stormy  interview,  and  her 
next  thought  was  to  get  inside  and  lock  the  door. 

He  divined  her  thought  and  was  beside  her,  pushing 
his  way  in  before  she  could  shut  the  door.  Once  in,  he 
was  content  for  the  moment.  She  must  listen  to  him 
now,  for  she  must  see  that  he  could  follow  wherever 
she  might  go  and  that  there  was  no  getting  away  from 
him. 

"Alice,  listen  to  me." 

"  I  will  not !  I  want  no  explanations !  I  want  nothing 
but  your  absence  —  nothing  but  never  to  see  your  face 
again!  If  Heaven  would  grant  me  that  great  blessing 
I  could  ask  nothing  more!  Go!" 

"Not  until  I  have  told  you  — " 

"  If  you  were  not  totally  devoid  of  decency  and  honor 
you  would  never  think  of  coming  here,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  scintillating  like  stars  and  the  flush  deepening 
upon  her  cheek. 

"Oh,  come  now,  little  girl,"  he  returned  wheed- 
lingly,  "you  only  think  you  are  angry.  You  don't 
really  dislike  me,  you  know,  and  that  that  I  can  tell 
you-" 

"Dislike!"  she  exclaimed  bitterly,  "dislike!  No,  I 
don't  dislike  you;  I  abhor  you,  I  hate  you  and  detest 
you  unspeakably.  I  don't  really  see  why  God  lets  such 
creatures  as  you  live,  live  to  spread  contagion,  a  moral 
leper  like  you!" 

213 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  tried  to  put  on  the  martyr's  expression  as  he 
returned,  "Have  it  out,  sweet  and  then  listen." 

"I'll  never  listen  to  you!  You  are  out  of  my  life! 
You  would  not  dare  to  come  here,  coward,  but  that 
you  knew  that  I  was  alone!  There's  not  a  word  you 
can  say  that  would  not  make  me  despise  you  more  and 
more,  if  that  were  possible.  Now  go!  Go!  Go!" 

"You'll  get  through  with  me  sooner  if  you  will  listen. 
It's  only  prolonging  the  situation  to  rail  against  me." 

"  I  tell  you  you  are  out  of  my  life!  I  don't  care  about 
your  explanations,  neither  would  I  believe  a  word  you 
would  utter!  To  me  you  are  simply  one  of  the  unmen- 
tionable scoundrels  that  it's  not  decent  to  talk  about! 
Do  I  make  myself  clear,  or  is  your  egotism  so  dense 
that  my  meaning  cannot  get  through?" 

"  But  it's  all  talk,  Alice.  It  will  do  you  a  lot  of  good 
to  get  it  out.  I  daresay  you've  rehearsed  it  a  lot  and 
know  just  what  you  want  to  say.  It  really  does  not 
hurt  me  in  the  least,  but  it  wastes  time." 

"Time!  If  it  were  but  one  hour  later  you  would 
not  dare  to  be  here,"  she  moaned. 

"  That  is  it,  exactly.  I  have  no  wish  to  get  you  into 
trouble,  Alice,  so  if  you'll  listen  and  let  me  tell  you  why 
things  turned  out  as  they  did  — " 

"No!  no!  no!  I  don't  care!  I'm  glad  they  turned 
out  as  they  did,  since  I  got  away  from  you!"  she  ex- 
claimed, wondering  how  she  could  get  rid  of  him. 

"But  I'm  not  glad  and  you  haven't  got  away  from 
me  if—" 

214 


ELEMENTAL  PASSIONS 

She  sprang  behind  a  chair  with  her  back  to  the  wall, 
for  he  had  taken  a  step  toward  her. 

"Don't  come  near  me!  I  shall  strike  you  with  this 
if  you  do!"  she  cried,  seizing  the  chair  back. 

The  dining-room  door  opening,  stopped  his  answer. 
Morello  stepped  inside.  For  one  moment  there  was 
deadly  quiet.  Dolores,  catching  her  breath,  looked  at 
her  husband  and  saw  the  primitive  man.  Redding 
looked  at  him  and  saw  the  elemental  creature  depicted 
in  his  face,  his  face,  that  expressed  neither  malignity 
nor  hatred,  but  dire  comprehension,  irresistible  deter- 
mination and  immeasurable  satisfaction. 

It  was  only  a  moment  they  stood  thus  and  then 
almost  with  one  great  bound  Morello  was  upon  him. 
They  were  well  matched,  physically,  but  Redding  was 
righting  for  his  life  and  Morello  for  the  honor  of  a 
world  full  of  women.  It  was  not  Dolores  alone  that 
entered  into  that  combat,  as  a  cause,  with  him;  it  was 
Constance,  his  mother,  womanhood,  maidenhood 
everywhere.  They  were  typifying  the  two  forces  in  the 
cosmic  process  when  the  world  was  very  young,  no  less 
than  the  two  forces  at  work  in  the  twentieth  century 
civilization. 

The  impact  was  terrible.  Dolores  crouched  and 
shivered  and  shrank  upon  the  floor  where  she  had  been 
standing,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands.  The  idea 
of  trying  to  stop  the  battle  never  entered  her  mind. 
Before  the  opening  of  that  door  she  had  been  battling 
in  a  different  way,  in  a  poor,  futile,  woman's  way,  and 

215 


THE  DRAG-NET 

it,  apparently,  had  had  no  effect;  now  it  had  been  taken 
out  of  her  hands  by  a  power  that  meant  something;  by 
the  virility  that  accomplishes;  and  though  she  shud- 
dered, she  accepted. 

Redding  was  cursing.  Morello  wasted  no  words, 
but  feinted,  defended  or  struck  as  best  he  could.  They 
came  down  upon  the  floor  together  with  a  tremendous 
crash,  Redding  underneath;  and  there  they  writhed, 
each  tortured  limb  doing  its  own  deadly  work.  A  ter- 
rible blow  from  Morello 's  fist  drove  some  of  Redding's 
teeth  from  their  sockets  and  elicited  vile  oaths;  where- 
upon, Morello  shouted,  without  looking  around  or 
loosening  his  hold  for  a  moment: 

"Dolores,  go  to  your  room!" 

She  did  not  dream  of  disobeying,  but  she  was  too 
sickened  to  stand,  so  she  crept  upon  hands  and  knees, 
halting  two  or  three  times  on  the  way  into  her  room  and 
to  the  side  of  her  bed,  hiding  her  blanched  face  in  her 
arms;  and  there,  through  all  that  terrible  battle,  she 
uttered  brokenly,  "God  help  him!  God  save  him! 
God  save  him!"  She  did  not  philosophize.  Primitive 
warfare  was  ungodly,  she  knew,  but  how  else  should 
the  ungodly  be  punished  ?  Enough  of  the  primitive 
arose  in  her  to  justify  Morello,  nay,  more,  to  applaud 
him  in  her  heart,  and  she  wept  and  trembled  and 
prayed  for  him. 

Like  two  enraged  beasts  of  the  forests,  each  lusting 
for  the  other's  disablement,  they  tore  and  crushed  and 
twisted  and  struck.  The  whole  room  was  their  arena. 

216 


They  came  down  upon  the  floor  together  with  a  tremendous 
crash. 


ELEMENTAL  PASSIONS 

The  table  in  front  of  the  grate  was  overturned  and  the 
huge  lamp  and  all  the  trifling  accessories  of  social 
pleasure  that  wealth  provides  came  thundering  down 
and  scattered  into  a  thousand  splinters.  Chairs  were 
kicked  away,  jardiniers  were  broken  and  their  flowers 
were  drenched  with  blood. 

Dolores  fainted  and  lay  prone  upon  the  floor  beside 
her  bed,  unable  to  bear  the  sounds  of  that  battle. 
When  her  senses  returned  it  was  over.  Everything 
was  till  in  the  adjoining  room,  but  one  person's  deep, 
heavy  breathing.  Whose  breathing?  The  horrible 
thought  that  the  conqueror  might  be  Redding  and  that 
Morello  might  be  lying  there  in  that  awful  stillness 
almost  stopped  the  beating  of  her  heart.  Was  this  the 
end  or  but  the  beginning  of  a  nightmare  of  horrors  ? 
At  all  events  she  must  know  the  result.  She  struggled 
to  get  to  a  sitting  posture,  but  fell  back  and  lay  still  for 
a  moment  with  closed  eyes.  Then  she  essayed  again 
and  gradually,  she  was  so  faint  and  sick,  she  got  upon 
her  knees  by  her  bedside  and  after  a  short  time,  by  the 
aid  of  the  bedpost,  she  stood. 

There  was  no  stir  in  the  next  room.  There  was  just 
the  panting  breath  of  one  person  to  stir  the  penetrating 
silence.  Her  excitement  strengthened  her.  She  was 
the  one  to  act  now.  It  was  her  turn  and  she  mustn't 
fail.  Summoning  all  her  courage  she  started  to  the 
next  room,  swaying  a  little  as  she  walked,  but  still 
bearing  herself  with  determination. 

She  passed  through  the  door  and  there  in  the  midst 

217 


THE  DRAG-NET 

of  the  wreck  lay  a  huddled  form  that  did  not  stir,  and 
against  the  wall,  with  eyes  closed  and  blood-stained 
face,  sat  the  other,  drawing  deep  and  painful  breaths ; 
and  the  one  that  lay  still  was  Redding. 

The  sight  was  so  dreadful  that  she  leaned  against  the 
door  for  support,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands  to 
shut  it  out.  Then  a  great  inpouring  of  strength  came 
to  her,  filled  her  arms  and  her  brain.  It  was  her  turn 
now. 

She  wheeled  a  big  arm-chair  from  the  corner  nearest 
her  to  where  Morello  sat  against  the  wall;  then  she  ran 
to  her  room  and  brought  a  bowl  of  water  and  a  towel 
and,  kneeling  beside  him,  she  washed  the  blood  from 
his  face. 

He  did  not  .speak  or  open  his  eyes.  They  had  been 
well  matched,  the  two  men,  and  it  had  gone  hard  with 
him. 

Dolores  saw  that  he  was  too  spent  to  get  into  the 
chair  and  so,  fastening  the  wet  towel  about  his  head, 
she  brought  a  cushion  and  eased  him  down  upon  the 
floor  until  his  head  rested  upon  it.  Then  she  went  to 
the  telephone  and  called  up  the  oifice. 

Some  one  answered. 

"I  want  Fenleigh,"  she  said.  Fenleigh  was  upon 
the  wire  in  a  moment. 

"Fenleigh,  I  want  you  to  get  a  machine  and  be 
out  here  at  the  bungalow  in  double-quick  time.  Will 
you?" 

"Whose  orders ?"  asked  the  cautious  old  man. 

218 


ELEMENTAL  PASSIONS 

"  Mrs.  Morello's.  I  know  what  I'm  doing,  Fenleigh. 
You  must  positively  come  as  fast  as  you  can  drive. 
Get  a  car  anywhere;  it's  serious.  I'm  ordering  because 
your  chief  isn't  able.  He's  hurt  and  he  needs  you, 
Fenleigh.  Don't  say  a  word,  but  come!" 

In  a  frightened  whisper  the  reply  came : 

"God  help  us,  I'll  be  out  there  in  fifteen  minutes." 

It  was  the  maid's  visiting  day  and  Dolores  could  not 
be  too  thankful  that  she  had  not  been  at  home  to  wit- 
ness that  carnage.  She  must  put  things  to  rights,  but 
first  she  must  see  how  it  had  fared  with  Redding.  Yes, 
he  must  have  the  same  care  that  she  had  given  to 
Morello  now.  No  animosity  must  keep  her  from  giving 
humane  ministrations  if  he  lived.  A  chill  shook  her 
and  she  prayed  unwaveringly  that  he  might  live,  that 
there  might  not  be  another  death  for  her  husband  to 
lay  at  his  door.  She  took  another  bowl  of  water  and 
towel  and  carefully  turning  him  over,  so  that  he  could 
lie  upon  his  back,  she  bathed  the  face  that  was  battered 
out  of  all  semblance  to  the  fastidious  young  man  whose 
evil  genius  had  led  him  to  that  place. 

She  found  that  there  was  respiration  and  she  was 
thankful.  He  had  had  a  frightful  beating,  but  he 
would  recover  and  would  never  molest  her  again  or 
desecrate  that  peaceful  home  with  his  presence. 

A  low  moan  escaped  him  and  she  folded  the  wet 
towel  and  left  it  upon  his  forehead.  It  was  all  she  could 
do. 

Morello  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  seat  himself  in  the 

219 


THE  DRAG-NET 

arm-chair  she  had  left  near  him.  He  had  been  watching 
her. 

She  went  to  him  and  removing  the  towel  dipped  it 
again  in  the  cool  water  and  bathed  his  hands  and 
wrists.  As  she  did  so  he  whispered, 

"I'm  glad  I  didn't  kill  him,  Dolores.  I  stopped  as 
soon  as  he  gave  up.  I  didn't  want  to  kill." 

"I've  phoned  for  Fenleigh,"  she  said. 

"That's  right;  we  don't  want  any  one  else." 

After  a  few  minutes  Redding  had  so  far  recovered  as 
to  draw  himself  up  into  a  sitting  posture,  clasping  his 
knees  with  his  arms  and  hiding  his  face  upon  them. 
So  Fenleigh  found  them  when  he  hurried  through  the 
door  from  the  porch  without  the  ceremony  of  knocking. 

He  stopped  short  just  inside  the  room  and  looked 
about.  The  tale  was  told  without  words. 

Morello,  who  had  given  himself  up  to  his  wife's  care, 
his  head  resting  upon  the  back  of  the  chair,  his  heart  in 
a  tumult  of  delight  that  he  felt  her  soft  hands  about 
him,  opened  his  eyes  when  Fenleigh  entered. 

"So  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Fenleigh,  shoving  both  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  humping  up  his  shoulders,  as 
he  looked  contemptuously  at  the  figure  on  the  floor. 

"Yes,"  answered  Morello.  "I  saw  him  board  a  car, 
and  something  gave  me  the  impression  that  he  was 
coming  here.  I  followed  to  see." 

"Why  didn't  you  kill  him?" 

"I  had  too  much  respect  for  the  devil,  Fenleigh." 

"  Yah !    That's  good ! ' '  the  old  man  snarled,  stripping 

220 


ELEMENTAL  PASSIONS 

off  his  coat,  "  but  he  should  have  been  done  for.  The 
devil's  bound  to  get  him  sooner  or  later.  The  first 
thing  to  do  is  to  clean  up  this  mess,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes;  please  help  me!"  exclaimed  Dolores. 

They  set  to  work  together  and  soon  had  the  broken 
articles  removed,  the  tables  and  chairs  in  their  places, 
and  as  much  of  the  evidence  of  the  battle  destroyed  as 
could  be  done  without  consuming  too  much  time. 

Night  had  fallen  and  their  work  was  finished  by 
electric  light. 

"Now,"  said  Morello,  who  had  kept  his  seat,  not  yet 
restored  enough  to  help  them,  "  put  that  thing  into  the 
machine  and  take  him  home,  Fenleigh,"  indicating 
Redding,  who  had  pulled  himself  against  the  wall. 

"Yah!"  snapped  the  old  man  again,  "I'd  rather 
kick  him  into  kingdom  come!" 

"  If  it  were  only  he,  alone,  that  was  to  be  considered, 
Fenleigh,  you  might,"  returned  Morello,  conciliatingly, 
"  but  you  know  the  affair  must  be  kept  still,  don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.     Get  up  here,  you,"  to  Redding! 

The  beaten  man  tried  to  rise  but  seemed  unable. 

"You  will  have  to  help  him,"  said  Morello. 

Fenleigh  held  out  his  hands  and  looked  at  them 
questioningly,  as  much  as  to  ask  if  they  could  bear  the 
contact;  then  with  a  shrug  and  a  growl  he  seized 
Redding  by  the  collar  and  snatched  him  to  his  feet. 

"I'm  glad  it's  dark,"  said  Morello.  "Watch  your 
chance  and,  when  no  one's  passing  his  home,  get  him 
in.  You'll  get  him  in  all  right,  Fenleigh?*' 

221 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  you  are  far  too  merciful  to 
such  vermin,  Morello." 

With  this  the  old  man  pushed  Redding  ahead  of  him 
through  the  door  out  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXn 

JUST  BRUTES 

DOLORES  heaped  fuel  in  the  grate  and  ignited  it  as 
soon  as  the  door  had  closed  upon  Fenleigh  and  his 
charge.  As  she  worked  she  glanced  nervously  at 
Morello,  who  had  pulled  a  fold  of  the  towel  down  over 
his  eyes.  The  position  of  his  head  resting  against  the 
back  of  the  arm-chair  threw  the  lower  part  of  his  face 
into  full  relief  and  the  young  wife  noticed  its  splendid 
lines,  the  clean-cut,  well-curved  but  refined  lips,  the 
firmly  moulded,  determined  chin  and  the  thin  cheeks. 
In  her  heart  there  rose  a  wild  primitive  joy  that  a  lord  of 
her  race  had  done  battle  for  her,  but  this  was  succeeded 
by  as  wild  a  shame  that  a  lord  of  her  race  should  have 
had  to  do  battle  for  her.  What  a  world  it  was.  That 
love  that  had  rooted,  grown,  blossomed  and  fruited  all 
in  one  short  week,  in  her  English  home;  that  she  had 
thought  the  tenderest,  most  holy  thing  in  life,  to  bring 
her  to  this!  She  crouched  upon  a  rug  in  front  of  the 
grate  and  felt,  through  the  fierce  heat  of  the  burning 
wood,  the  fiercer  heat  of  that  burning  shame  within  her 
heart.  Beating  against  the  prison  bars  of  her  intellect 
came  again,  insistently,  the  oft-recurring  question :  how 
could  such  a  good,  tender,  beautiful  thing  as  that  love 
lead  to  such  an  abyss  of  darkness  and  wreck  ? 

223 


THE  DRAG-NET 

They  remained  thus  for  some  time,  each  immersed  in 
his  own  bitter  retrospection,  but  finally  there  were 
sounds  of  the  maid's  arrival.  She  entered  a  side  door 
and  passed  up  the  back  stairway  to  her  room  and 
Dolores  knew  that  in  a  few  minutes  she  would  emerge 

O 

in  working  clothes  and  busy  herself  with  preparations 
for  the  dinner.  Morello  also  seemed  to  realize  that 
discovery  was  imminent,  so  he  pushed  the  towel  from 
his  eyes  and  slowly  pulled  himself  to  a  standing  position. 

She  sprang  up  and  was  by  his  side  in  an  instant. 
"Don't,  don't  try  to  walk,"  she  begged  fearfully. 

He  pulled  the  towel  from  his  head,  ran  his  hand 
through  his  hair,  brushing  it  from  his  forehead,  and 
looked  down  upon  her.  She  avoided  his  eyes.  He  was 
glad  that  she  did.  He  seemed  to  divine  the  thorny  way 
she  was  treading. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,"  he  said,  leaning  a  little  on 
her  shoulder,  "  but  the  springs  of  my  life  seem  to  have 
been  reversed.  I  seem  to  have  gone  back  a  thousand 
—  ten  thousand  years.  I  have  been  once  again  a  brute." 

"And  for  me,"  she  replied,  pressing  her  hands  upon 
her  breast,  as  though  it  would  help  her  breathe  more 
freely. 

"Yes,  for  you,  for  me,  for  him,  I  have  been  a  beast, 
Dolores." 

"But  what  else  could  you  have  done?  Oh,  what 
else?"  she  cried,  gropingly. 

"Nothing  else,  even  if  I  had  waited  to  think,"  he 
returned,  "nothing  else.  I  fancy  that,  from  time  to 

224 


JUST  BRUTES 

time,  we  revert  to  that  remote  type  in  that  way,  and  yet 
we  never  quite  get  back,  even  in  our  most  beastly 
moments." 

She  tried  to  speak,  was  afraid  of  giving  way  to  weep- 
ing, and  he  went  on  answering  the  questions  thronging 
her  brain  as  well  as  his  own. 

"Fighting  isn't  just  the  same  as  when  we  lived  in 
caves,  even  when  we  fight  with  naked  fists.  It's  a 
brutal  way,  but  I  fought  for  something  they  had  no 
conception  of  then,  the  heavenly  sacredness  of  love." 

His  voice  sank  into  a  whisper  as  he  steadied  himself 
against  her  shoulder.  "Yes,  Dolores,  I  fought  for  the 
purity  of  all  womankind.  It  was  against  a  man  who 
stands  for  the  impurity." 

"I  feel  ashamed  even  to  thank  you,"  she  faltered. 

"Don't,  dear."  he  said,  taking  her  head  in  his  hands 
and  pressing  a  kiss  upon  her  hair.  "Don't;  you  can 
feel  free  now;  he'll  not  molest  you  again!"  He  swayed 
as  he  stood. 

"You  are  faint,"  she  cried  alarmed. 

"Yes;  I  must  get  to  my  room." 

"Let  me  help  you;  I'm  strong,  so  strong." 

But  he  sank  again  into  the  chair.  She  brought  him 
a  glass  of  wine  and  held  it  to  his  lips  and  he  drained  it. 
"I'll  rest  awhile  on  the  couch  before  attempting  the 
stairs,"  he  said.  "I'm  hurt,  I  think.  I  wonder  if  I  can 
get  to  the  couch." 

He  again  arose  and  with  pain  that  drew  a  groan  from 
his  lips  he  walked  slowly  with  Dolores'  help  to  the 

225 


THE  DRAG-NET 

couch  at  the  end  of  the  room.  Then  she  arranged  his 
pillows  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  call  a  doctor.  This 
he  would  not  listen  to,  asserting  that  the  morning  would 
find  him  fit  as  ever. 

It  was  not  long  before  Fenleigh  was  back  at  the 
bungalow.  They  had  not  told  him  to  return,  but  they 
were  both  immensely  relieved  that  he  came. 

"Well,  did  you  get  him  home  safely,  Fenleigh?" 
asked  Morello,  getting  into  a  sitting  posture. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  old  man,  laughing,  "I  got  him 
in  all  right,  but  who  should  be  in  the  hall  when  I 
opened  the  door  but  his  wife.  She'd  just  come  home 
from  some  tea  or  something.  He  tried  to  squirm  out  of 
my  hands  when  he  seen  her,  but  I  held  him  by  the  back 
of  his  collar  an'  says  I, '  Ma'am,  I'm  sorry  to  make  you 
such  a  bad-looking  present,  but  sech  as  it  is,  it's  your'n.' 
She  grew  awful  pale  an  she  just  looked  at  him  as  though 
she  was  turned  to  stone  an'  I  went  on  holding  him  up 
before  her,  'You've  drawn  worse  than  a  blank,  ma'am, 
in  the  matrimonial  lottery,'  says  I,  'an'  I'm  sorry  for 
you.  Now  if  you'll  call  the  butler  or  valley  or  whoever 
can  tinker  him  up  I'll  go.'  With  that  he  got  up  a  bit 
of  pluck  and  turned  on  me  and  swore  frightful.  The 
lady  fled  away  down  the  hall  and  I  gave  him  a  shove 
and  got  out  of  the  door." 

He  laughed  as  he  related  it;  but  Dolores  could 
see  that  he  was  watching  Morello  very  closely  as  he 
talked. 

"Sorry,  but  she'd  have  to  find  him  out  sooner  or 

226 


JUST  BRUTES 

later,"  commented  Morello,  closing  his  eyes,  one  of 
which  was  badly  swollen. 

"I'm  going  to  get  you  to  bed,  old  man;  I'm  going  to 
play  valley  for  you,"  said  Fenleigh,  throwing  off  his 
overcoat  and  bustling  about  to  cover  his  nervous 
apprehension. 

"  Yes,  I'm  badly  in  need  of  a  valet  to-night,  Fenleigh, 
first  time  in  my  life,"  Morello  replied,  attempting  a 
cheerful  tone. 

So  the  sturdy  old  man  assisted  his  chief  to  his  room 
and  put  him  to  bed.  Then  he,  too,  pleaded  for  a  doctor, 
but  Morello  would  not  give  his  consent  to  that.  "No, 
I'll  be  all  right  in  a  couple  of  days,"  he  asserted.  "He 
gave  me  some  vicious  digs,  but  I'll  get  over  it  with  rest. 
You'll  have  to  take  charge  at  the  office,  Fenleigh.  You 
can  get  me  by  phone  at  any  time." 

"Damn  the  brute  —  to  come  here!" 

"He'll  not  come  again,"  Morello  returned. 

"No,  but—" 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  think,  Fenleigh,  but  you  are 
wrong.  He'll  not  molest  me,  I'm  confident." 

"There's  no  honor  in  his  carcass,  I  tell  you." 

"No,  but  there's  fear." 

"And  foolhardiness  and  wrath  and  revenge.  You 
must  bear  in  mind,  son,"  —  Fenleigh  felt  all  of  a 
father's  anxiety  now  —  "  that  in  all  his  career  of  vice  he 
has  never  been  interfered  with  before.  You've  risen 
here  with  your  Drag-Net  and  to-morrow  his  name  is 
published  as  the  owner  of  those  houses,  you  know. 

227 


THE  DRAG-NET 

This  thing  makes  matters  worse.  You'll  have  to  look 
out." 

"  Well,  I  will,  I  will,  I  promise  you.  You  are  a  whole 
regiment,  old  man.  Tell  wife  I  don't  want  her  to  bring 
up  any  dinner.  I  couldn't  eat  a  mouthful.  Oh,  we 
were  brutes,  just  common,  low  brutes,  Fenleigh." 

"Well,  what  of  it,  as  long  as  you  whipped  him?" 
asked  the  old  man,  going  out. 


228 


CHAPTER  XXm 

IMMOLATION 

ON  the  second  afternoon  of  Morello's  confinement 
to  his  room,  he  was  seated  wrapped  in  a  long  robe  of 
oriental  design  before  the  window  looking  upon  the 
mountains.  The  curtain  was  drawn  entirely  back  so 
that  the  casement  made  a  frame  for  a  lovelier  picture 
than  ever  was  painted.  In  the  night  snow  had  fallen 
upon  the  higher  peaks  and  they  stood  in  virgin  majesty 
looking  down  upon  the  green  foothills  and  the  emerald 
sweep  of  the  valley.  Dolores  had  been  reading  to  him. 
The  tale  was  one  of  a  strong,  cruel  human  life,  a  life 
that  was  utterly  at  variance  with  her  accepted  code  of 
ethics,  and  they  had  gotten  into  a  discussion  as  to  the 
relative  power  for  trouble-making  of  the  strong,  cruel 
character  and  the  weak,  cruel  character,  when  the  door 
opened  and  Madam  Morello  entered.  The  door  had 
been  slightly  ajar  and  she  had  heard  them  talking  and 
had  stood  upon  no  ceremony,  entering  almost  at  the 
moment  of  knocking. 

As  her  eyes  fell  upon  her  son's  face,  which  was  still 
discolored  and  swollen,  an  exclamation  escaped  her. 
Then  she  looked  at  Dolores,  who  had  arisen. 

"  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  leave  us  alone,"  she 
said  coldly.  **I  wish  to  talk  to  my  son." 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Certainly,"  replied  Dolores,  turning  towards  the 
door,  without  a  look  at  either  of  them. 

"But,  Mother—"  began  Morello. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  alone!"  the  lady  replied 
emphatically. 

The  door  closed  behind  the  young  wife  and  she  made 
her  way  down  into  the  garden  which  she  had  not  visited 
since  she  had  seen  Redding  coming  up  the  walk.  The 
last  two  days  had  been  spent  ministering  to  Morello. 
She  was  sick  at  heart,  for  the  same  fear  that  visited 
Fenleigh  had  also  come  to  her.  The  end  was  not  yet  in 
sight,  she  felt  sure. 

The  colloquy  above  stairs  was  not  brief.  The 
shadows  had  grown  long  about  the  tree-studded  lawn, 
and  the  snowy  peaks  had  turned  to  vast  elysian  fields  of 
palest  rose,  when  Madam  Morello  came  down.  Her 
face  was  very  pale  and  drawn.  Dolores  came  towards 
her  as  though  to  speak,  but  she  repelled  her  hand  with  a 
shuddering  gesture  and  went  out  to  the  waiting  carriage. 

When  Dolores  entered  the  house  she  heard  Morello 's 
bell  and  went,  as  usual,  to  answer  it.  There  was  a 
choking  sensation  in  her  throat,  which  she  was  vainly 
trying  to  rid  herself  of.  Her  great  shadowy  eyes  were 
heavy  with  unshed  tears  and  all  animation  had  departed. 

She  stopped  just  inside  the  door.  She  was  not  quite 
sure  that  it  had  been  wise  to  come  up,  not  quite  sure 
that  she  could  remain  even  outwardly  composed. 

"You  called  ?"  she  said,  not  looking  at  him. 

"I  wanted  you,  Dolores,"  he  answered  softly. 

230 


IMMOLATION 

"What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"You  can  come  here,  near  me,"  pleadingly. 

She  did  not  stir.  There  was  a  great  warring  within. 
Her  feeling  of  helplessness  was  shot  through  with  indig- 
nation and  a  strong  sense  of  injustice.  She  did  not  stir. 

"I  won't  ask  you,  dear,  if  you  feel  that  you  don't 
want  to  come  near  me,  but  you  are  mine,  my  wife. 
Nothing  matters  very  much  while  the — the  benediction 
of  your  presence  is  on  my  house,"  he  said  reverently. 

That  she  could  inspire  such  feeling  as  Morello  gave 
her  glimpses  of  now  and  then  was  a  never  ending 
wonder  to  her.  She  went  across  the  room  quickly  and 
there,  by  his  chair  in  the  dusk,  she  knelt  and  bowed 
her  head. 

"Thank  you,  dear,"  he  said,  bending  over  and  rain- 
ng  kisses  on  her  hair.    "Thank  you.    That  I  may  do 
this  is  worth  all  —  everything.     The  unseen  movers  of 
our  destiny  —  whoever  they  are,  are  kind  to  me." 

"But  not  to  me,  not  to  me!"  she  cried,  rising  and 
making  an  heroic  effort  to  stifle  the  sobs  that  would 
come.  "  I  seem  to  be  in  a  stream  of  life  in  which  whirl- 
pools and  rocks  are  always  waiting,  and  it  is  wrong, 
wrong.  I  didn't  deserve  it  and  I  don't  now!" 

"But  you  have  passed  them  all  now,"  he  answered 
soothingly. 

"How  can  you  say  that?"  she  asked  brokenly.  "I 
am  in  the  thick  of  them,  yes,  only  now  in  the  thick  of 
them,  and  I  wanted  only  a  legitimate  love,  a  quiet  hap- 
piness, such  as  any  girl  may  expect  without  wrong. 

231 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Oh,  when  I  think  I  have  alienated  my  own  family  and 
now  your  mother,  and  of  those  unmentionable  months, 
I  think  —  I  think  I  should  have  married  that  boorish 
fellow  in  England  and  have  saved  it  all.  The  worst 
thing  is  this,"  she  continued  after  a  moment,  "that  I 
have  driven  your  mother  from  you  and  have  put  your 
life  in  danger." 

"Dolores,  listen,"  he  returned,  quietingly.  "I  want 
to  talk  to  you  a  little.  Get  that  hassock  and  sit  here 
and  let  me  play  mentor  to  you  for  a  few  minutes,  you 
poor  little  ignorant  soul." 

She  did  as  he  directed,  pushing  the  cushion  to  the 
side  of  his  chair  and  leaning  her  head  upon  one  of  its 
arms. 

"During  all  that  year  as  I  worked  as  the  Bishop's 
gardener,"  he  began,  "I  was  studying  the  inner  pro- 
cesses of  life.  I  had  to  study  them  in  the  vegetable 
world  to  become  a  successful  gardener,  and  that  was 
the  work  the  Bishop  had  given  me  to  do.  I  think  I 
should  have  gone  mad  if  I  hadn't  pinned  my  mind 
down  to  the  growing  things  of  the  earth,  for  I  couldn't 
rid  my  vision  of  those  dead  forms  lying  there,  that 
beautiful  sunny  morning  at  Saint  Pius,  forms  that 
would  have  been  living,  breathing,  enjoying,  but  for 
the  curse  of  our  inhuman  penal  system.  Talk  of  rocks 
and  whirlpools!  Why,  sometimes,  Dolores,"  here  his 
voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper,  "  sometimes  I  used  to 
find  myself  digging  graves  for  those  people  and  seeing 
their  accusing  eyes,  as  they  looked  at  me  from  the 

232 


IMMOLATION 

hollows  of  those  graves.  Then  I  would  throw  down 
the  spade  and  with  my  naked  hands  I  would  root  up 
and  destroy  the  weeds  in  some  other  part  of  the  garden 
until  my  hands  were  raw  and  my  back  strained,  my 
mind  all  the  while  beating  the  bars  of  universal  reason, 
for  the  particular  reasons  of  my  being.  I  got  the  rea- 
sons, dear,  I  got  the  reasons!"  he  ended  triumphantly. 

His  hand  all  bruised  and  swollen,  as  it  was,  rested 
limply  upon  his  knee  and  she  put  her  soft  slender  one 
upon  it  in  sympathy  and  understanding.  It  was  the 
first  caress  she  had  given  him,  and  he  scarcely  dared 
breathe  lest  it  be  withdrawn.  A  great  light  leaped 
into  his  eyes  and  all  the  probabilities  of  romance,  love, 
joy  immeasurable,  surged  upon  him  and  rendered  him 
incapable  of  speaking  for  a  moment. 

"  It  is  the  rocks  and  whirlpools  that  fashion  the  life 
that  is  worth  living,"  he  asserted  firmly,  his  voice 
vibrating  with  glad  tumult.  "  Never  wish  for  placidity, 
dear,  until  the  elements  have  buffeted  you,  ground  you 
fine,  maybe,  and  remade  you  into  a  nobler  thing.  It 
isn't  for  happiness  we  live,  but  for  results,  results!" 

She  gave  his  hand  a  gentle  pressure  and  withdrew 
her  own,  saying,  "I  will  remember  what  you  have 
said,  Prentiss,  I  will,  indeed.  I  know  you  are  right,  of 
course,  but  I  haven't  your  courage.  I'm  one  suffering 
mass  of  fears." 

The  maid  knocked  at  the  door  to  say  that  dinner  was 
ready,  and  Dolores  went  down  then  to  prepare  his  tray 
and  bring  it  to  him. 

233 


THE  DRAG-NET 

It  was  quite  a  week  after  this  that  she  received  her 
letter  from  England.  Her  parents  had  taken  their  time 
to  reply,  but  the  reply  was  gentler  and  kinder  than  the 
one  received  so  many  months  ago.  Ruth  was  married 
to  the  rejected  lover;  before  that  letter  would  reach  her, 
her  sister  Constance  would  also  be  provided  with  a 
husband ;  so,  if  she  were  properly  married,  she  would  be 
kindly  received  for  a  visit  of  reasonable  length  in  her 
father's  household.  They  had  prayed  for  a  spirit  of 
forgiveness  and  it  had  come  to  them.  They  hoped  that 
she  had  overcome  all  her  wicked  wilfulness  and  had 
settled  down,  a  good,  obedient  wife. 

She  sat  lost  in  a  philosophical  maze  over  its  contents 
when,  once  again,  Madam  Morello  appeared.  The 
morning  sun  poured  through  the  large  living-room 
windows,  filling  it  with  warmth  and  glow.  Dolores  sat 
in  a  low  rocker  in  a  shaft  of  light.  Her  dress  of  some 
soft,  white  woolen  stuff  lay  in  folds  upon  the  rich 
colors  of  the  rug,  and  there  was  a  cluster  of  red  roses  in 
her  hair.  Morello  liked  her  to  wear  flowers  and  so  she 
did  these  things  as  she  would  have  done  any  other 
harmless  thing,  in  an  all-absorbing  sense  of  gratitude 
to  the  one  who  had  stood  between  her  and  an  angry 
world. 

But  Madam  Morello  looked  upon  it  all  with  different 
eyes.  The  flowers,  the  pretty  waving  hair,  the  slender 
form,  even  the  innocent  white  dress,  were  all  siren 
charms  that  were  not  to  be  tolerated. 

Dolores,  looking  up  as  she  entered,  was  amazed  at 

234 


IMMOLATION 

the  change  in  her.  Her  face  had  lost  its  freshness  and 
fullness;  her  figure,  so  commanding  when  she  had  first 
known  her,  was  now  a  little  bent  and  a  nervous  carriage 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  imperious  dignity  that  had 
been  quite  natural  to  her  then.  She  sprang  up  and, 
without  tendering  the  hand  that  had  once  been  repelled, 
she  pushed  an  easy-chair  towards  her  and  begged  her 
to  be  seated.  She  was  apprehensive  of  this  unexpected 
visit. 

"Mr.  Morello  goes  to  the  office  now,"  she  said,  tim- 
idly. "I'm  sorry  he's  not  at  home  to  receive  you." 

"I  know;  I  came  to  talk  to  you  to-day,"  the  lady 
replied  coldly. 

"Yes?" 

"I  appealed  to  him  when  I  came  last  time.  As  you 
probably  know,  it  did  no  good." 

"I  know  nothing  of  what  passed  between  you  and 
your  son,  Madam  Morello,"  answered  Dolores. 

"He  didn't  tell  you?"  incredulously. 

"He  did  not." 

"Yet  I  asked  him  to,"  with  a  despairing  gesture. 

Dolores  had  no  answer  for  this. 

"I've  been  waiting  all  the  week  for  your  answer," 
Madam  Morello  continued,  "and  you  say  he  never 
told  you  of  my  decision?" 

"  We  have  not  spoken  of  your  visit  here,  Madam.  It 
must  have  been  very  painful  to  him  or  he  would  have 
spoken  of  it,  I  think,"  answered  the  young  wife  with 
sweet  dignity. 

235 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Yes,  no  doubt."  Then  for  a  few  minutes  the  lady 
was  silent,  considering,  and  very  evidently  trying  to 
conquer  a  rising  emotion.  Then: 

"  I  don't  know  whether  an  appeal  to  you  will  do  any 
good  either,  but  it  is  all  that  is  left  me.  Perhaps  you 
may  have  some  feeling  still.  You  see  me  here  ill  and 
broken,  supplicating  for  the  honor  and  welfare  of  my 
son." 

It  would  have  been  melodramatic  but  for  the  very 
evident  suffering  in  her  face  and  the  low,  broken  tones 
of  her  voice.  Dolores  was  mystified.  "  I'm  sure  I  can't 
even  guess  at  your  meaning,"  she  answered  gently. 

"Didn't  he  tell  you  that  I  have  disinherited  him?" 

"No!"  exclaimed  Dolores,  startled. 

"  Well,  I  have.  I  saw  that  his  whole  fortune  and  all 
I  should  leave  him  would  go  because  of  you  and  that 
horrible  paper  of  his." 

"Because  of  me?" 

"Yes,  you,  with  your  wiles,  can  do  anything  with 
him.  He's  infatuated  and  so  hardly  responsible  for 
what  he  does." 

She  rose  and  stood  beside  the  chair,  her  hand  on  its 
back,  a  hard  light  from  her  eyes  beating  down  into 
Dolores'  horror-stricken  face. 

"There  is  no  use  your  denying  or  talking  at  all,"  the 
angry  woman  went  on.  "  Until  he  met  you  he  was  the 
best  son  a  mother  ever  had;  and  I  had  such  plans  for 
him,  such  plans.  He  had  an  education,  wealth,  good 
looks;  what  could  he  not  have  had  besides  with  those 

236 


IMMOLATION 

to  start  with?  Nothing.  There  is  nothing  that  he 
could  not  have  aspired  to,  and  he  has  thrown  every- 
thing away  for  you,  you!" 

"I  don't  know  whether  you  think  a  mother  has  any 
right  in  her  son  or  any  claim  to  his  consideration  once 
he  is  married  or  not,  but  you  shall  know  how  you  are 
killing  me.  Yes,  killing  me.  Never  in  my  life  could  I 
have  believed  that  I  should  have  been  placed  in  a  posi- 
tion where  I  could  not  look  people  in  the  face  for 
shame.  All  my  life  I  have  held  my  head  up.  All  my 
life  have  I  been  a  leader.  I  have  been  acknowledged 
as  foremost  wherever  I  have  lived;  and  now  into  my 
virtuous  life  comes  a  woman  of  the  streets  and  robs  me 
of  my  son  and  my  honorable  position.  Oh,  it  is  not  to 
be  borne!  It  is  not  to  be  borne!" 

Dolores  crouched  and  shivered.  She  was  upon  the 
rocks  in  the  stream  of  life  and  there  seemed  no  safety 
anywhere. 

Madam  Morello  considered  her  attitude  one  of  con- 
scious guilt  and  was  glad  of  the  effect  she  was  making. 

"You  can  undo  some  of  your  work  and  redeem 
yourself  if  you  will,"  the  bitter  voice  went  on.  "I  am 
prepared  to  be  generous  with  you." 

She  waited  a  moment  but  there  was  no  reply. 

"If  you  will  agree  to  leave  America  and  live  with 
your  own  people  you  shall  have  two  hundred  dollars  a 
month  to  live  upon  until  you  are  married  again." 

Dolores  sprang  up  at  that,  the  hunted  look  all  gone 
from  her  eyes  and  a  fierce  indignation  in  its  place. 

237 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"And  you,  a  mother,  come  to  me  with  such  a  base 
proposition  as  that!"  she  cried. 

"The  baseness  is  in  your  staying  here,"  was  the 
calculated  answer. 

The  young  girl  looked  at  her  in  amazement  and 
waited  for  elucidation. 

"You,  a  discarded,  a  dishonored  girl,  married  my 
son  without  love,  simply  for  his  support.  You  are  an 
interloper  in  an  honorable  family.  Your  presence  is 
destroying  his  mother's  health,  his  sister's  prospects. 
Your  presence  will  drive  us  away  from  our  native  land. 
You  have  caused  your  husband  to  be  disinherited. 
Everything  is  lost  through  you."  Dolores'  head  had 
sunk  lower  and  lower  at  each  accusation,  and  she  sank 
upon  her  chair  again,  broken,  forlorn,  acquiescent.  It 
was  all  true,  she  said  inwardly;  the  case  against  her 
was  complete. 

"  Nothing  but  remorse  and  unhappiness  can  come  to 
you  for  this.  Your  staying  here,  now  that  you  know  all 
these  things,  would  simply  be  inhuman.  I  don't  believe 
you  are  actually  bad,  that  you  rejoice  in  evil;  I  think 
you  are  only  vain,  and  so  weak  that  you  have  allowed 
yourself  to  drift  into  evil  ways. 

"It  would  be  well  that  you  should  stay  quietly  in 
your  father's  parsonage  —  strange  that  it  shouldn't 
have  protected  you  better  —  and  I  will  willingly  set 
aside  a  sum  that  will  pay  you  two  hundred  dollars  a 
month  as  long  as  you  remain  single.  That  is  wealth 
for  a  girl  of  your  station  in  life.  By  doing  this  you  can 

238 


IMMOLATION 

restore  my  son  his  heritage  and  earn  my  and  my  daugh- 
ter's gratitude.  We  want  to  live  here  in  our  own  city 
and  to  have  Prentiss  come  and  live  with  us.  I  beg  of 
you  almost  on  my  knees  to  restore  him  to  his  family 
and  to  us  our  social  position." 

It  had  all  been  calculated,  every  word  of  it,  but  to 
the  tortured  girl  it  was  a  spontaneous,  broken-hearted 
pleading  of  a  sick  mother.  Once,  but  little  over  a  year 
ago  in  England,  she  had  been  called  to  sacrifice  herself 
and  had  refused.  A  train  of  dire  events  had  followed. 
Again  she  was  called  upon  to  sacrifice  herself  and  the 
call  found  her  ready  to  immolate  herself  on  the  altar  of 
atonement. 

She  got  to  her  feet  gain.  There  must  be  an  answer. ; 
The  letter  she  had  been  reading  lay  on  the  rug  at  her 
feet.  That  mother's  words  in  comparison  to  this 
mother's  seemed  words  of  affectionate  welcome. 

Her  eyes  gave  out  but  hopelessness  and  horror,  but 
she  had  pulled  herself  somewhat  together  as  she  said, 

"  I  see  that  I  have  no  right  to  break  up  your  family, 
Madam,  and  impoverish  your  son,  and  that  it  will  be  a 
real  kindness  to  you  all  for  me  to  go  back  home.  I 
will  go." 

A  joyous  expression  chased  the  haggard  look  from 
the  old  lady's  face.  She  took  a  step  forward  with  hand 
outstretched.  It  was  a  wrong  move.  The  calculation 
had  not  extended  so  far. 

"Don't  touch  me!"  exclaimed  Dolores,  starting  back 
from  the  hand.  "Don't  touch  me!  I  feel,  Madam 

239 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Morello,  as  if  your  touch  would  dry  up  every  good  drop 
of  innocent  blood  in  my  veins  and  fill  me  with  venom 
and  malice  unspeakable!" 

"Oh,  you,  you  — "  began  the  infuriated  woman. 

"Stop,  Madam!  You've  said  enough!  Your  right- 
eousness and  honor  are  all  a  sham !  You  say  I  am  not 
actually  bad  — well,  I  say  that  you  are!  You  have  no 
goodness,  no  mercy  in  you,  nothing  but  selfishness  that 
has  warped  you  out  of  shape,  and  pride  that  has  robbed 
you  of  all  shame.  I  agree  to  go  away  from  here,  not 
for  your  sake,  but  for  your  son's.  You  may  keep  your 
money;  I  will  not  take  one  cent  from  you.  I  can  get 
my  own  living.  Now  leave  my  house  as  fast  as  you  can, 
you  stifle  me!" 

"  Oh,  you  insolent  creature,  you  — " 

"Go!  Go!"  Dolores  walked  erectly  and  steadily  to 
the  door  and  opened  it.  In  great  disorder  and  without 
a  particle  of  dignity,  Madam  Morello  departed. 


240 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  CALL  TO  SELF-SACRIFICE 

ALWAYS,  as  Morello  approached  the  bungalow  at 
night,  did  he  feel  the  immanence  of  peace  and  the 
mental  clairvoyance  that  was  lacking  to  a  great  extent 
in  his  office.  All  the  harmonies  of  his  life  centered 
there  and  he  was  without  fear.  His  energies  in  his 
work  must  earn  consummation;  his  patience  and  belief 
in  his  love  must  earn  consummation;  and  his  old  age 
should  be  the  grand  consummation  of  all.  He  was 
young,  he  was  strong;  he  had  come  out  boldly  for  the 
clean  city,  the  humane  administration,  and  what  one 
man  was  capable  of  doing  he  was  going  to  do. 

So  this  night  he  swung  freely  up  the  walk,  never 
thinking  of  how  bravely  he  had  said  to  his  wife,  "  It  is 
the  rocks  and  whirlpools  that  fashion  the  life  that  is 
worth  living." 

No  one  was  about  below;  but  the  faint  odor  of 
dinner  reached  him  and  he  went  up  to  his  room,  smiling 
to  think  that  in  a  short  hour  he  would  be  sitting  oppo- 
site Dolores,  partaking  of  that  dinner  and  watching, 
unchecked,  her  beautiful,  intelligent  face  and  hearing, 
rapturously,  the  tones  of  her  voice. 

Almost  before  the  door  closed  upon  him  he  tore  off 
his  coat  and  flung  his  suspenders  down  from  his  shoul- 

241 


THE  DRAG-NET 

ders.  There  were  always  clean  linen  and  immaculate 
clothes  in  the  evening  and,  though  he  did  not  dare  often 
to  speak  of  his  love,  his  deference  and  his  thoughtful- 
ness  were  a  perpetual  courtship. 

He  had  said  once  to  her  in  one  of  their  evening  dis- 
cussions that  nature  was  very  tractible  under  gentle 
guidance,  but  very  obstinate  under  force.  He  thought 
of  it  now  as  he  unlaced  his  shoes  and  he  laughed  in  his 
happiness.  He  thought  he  saw  the  trend  of  nature  in 
that  caressing  touch  upon  his  bruised  hand,  and  his 
gentle  guidance  should  continue  until  her  heart  should 
thrill  as  it  never  had  yet,  thrill  to  the  touch  of  his  hand, 
the  sound  of  his  voice  or  his  step,  and  all  the  world 
should  be  a  paradise  to  them. 

Humming  that  sweet  air, "  Last  night,"  he  approached 
his  dresser  and  there  he  saw  a  white  envelope  bearing 
his  name. 

From  Constance,  he  thought,  wondering  a  little  at 
her  communicating  in  that  way,  as  he  hastily  tore  it 
open. 

"For  your  sake,  that  you  may  be  restored  to  your 
family  and  your  inheritance,  I  start  to-day  for  England. 
I  shall  not  return. 

DOLORES." 

It  took  him  a  moment  to  collect  his  senses,  then 
half  dressed  as  he  was,  he  went  swiftly  down  the  stairs, 
across  the  unlighted  living-room  to  her  door.  He 
knocked,  hoping,  unreasoningly,  that  a  voice  would 
speak  to  him  from  within;  but  no  voice  responded. 

242 


A  CALL  TO  SELF-SACRIFICE 

As  he  stood  waiting  only  the  sounds  from  the  distant 
kitchen  reached  him.  Never,  since  Dolores  had  first 
entered  the  bungalow,  had  he  crossed  that  threshold, 
but  now  he  must.  There  might  be  something  more, 
something  that  would  aid  him  to  understand  better 
there. 

He  went  in  and  as  all  was  dark  he  switched  on  the 
light.  The  room  was  in  perfect  order.  He  looked  upon 
the  dresser,  the  bed,  the  small  table  at  the  head  of  her 
bed,  in  her  work-basket  that  stood  upon  the  table  near 
the  low  rocker  in  which  she  always  sat  to  sew  or  em- 
broider. There  was  a  piece  of  unfinished  embroidery 
neatly  folded  near  the  basket.  It  was  emblematic  of 
his  incomplete  love,  and  a  mist  came  before  his  eyes. 

He  opened  the  door  of  her  wardrobe;  there  hung  the 
pretty  white  dresses  that  she  had  worn  to  please  him. 
He  knew  them,  every  one,  for  had  not  they  enveloped 
the  form  of  the  woman  toward  whom  every  fiber  of  his 
being  set  in  utmost  love  and  reverence.  But  there  was 
one  missing,  a  plain,  dark  blue  street  costume.  That, 
then,  was  the  one  she  had  worn  away. 

Going  out  into  the  living-room  he  opened  a  little 
drawer  in  the  bookcase  where  he  always  deposited 
money  for  her.  The  money  was  gone,  of  course,  but  he 
knew  there  had  not  been  enough,  not  nearly  enough 
for  that  long  journey.  The  thought  turned  him  cold. 
The  poor  girl  was  out  in  the  world  again,  adrift,  and 
without  money  enough  to  carry  her  across  the  ocean  to 
her  own  people. 

243 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  went  into  the  kitchen.  "  I  am  not  dining  at  home 
to-night,"  he  said  to  the  maid,  and  then  back  to  his 
room,  stunned  and  dazed. 

"For  your  sake,  that  you  may  be  restored  to  your 
family  and  inheritance,"  he  said  over  and  over  again, 
standing  at  his  dresser  and  gazing  at  the  writing  upon 
the  paper,  unseeingly. 

It  came  to  him  immediately,  the  whole  miserable 
affair.  He  had  meant  that  Dolores  should  never  know 
that  his  mother  had  disinherited  him;  and  so  it  had 
been  communicated  to  her  by  his  mother.  He  set  his 
teeth  as  he  pictured  the  torture  that  imperious  woman 
was  capable  of  dealing  out  to  her  whom,  she  would 
insist,  was  the  cause  of  all  her  fancied  troubles. 

Hastily  dressing,  he  went  to  his  mother's  house. 
He  made  his  way  straight  to  her  room  and  found  her 
there.  That  he  had  come  to  upbraid  her  she  never 
doubted,  so  she  began  violently: 

"Prentiss,  that  girl  whom  you  married  treated  your 
mother  most  shamefully  to-day.  Having  waited  as 
long  as  I  could  —  for  I'm  ill,  Prentiss  —  I  went  to  her 
and  as  gently  as  I  could  I  offered  her  two  hundred  dol- 
lars a  month  —  very  generous,  I'm  sure — to  go  back  to 
her  people,  where  she  rightfully  belongs,  and  she  ordered 
me  from  the  house  in  the  most  shameless  manner  you 
can  imagine.  She  has  no  breeding,  Prentiss." 

He  stood  waiting  for  her  to  end,  never  taking  his 
dark,  somber  eyes  from  her  face.  Then  in  a  low  but 
distinct  tone,  he  said: 

244 


"You've  never  lived — my  God  !  You've  never  lived  !" 


A  CALL  TO  SELF-SACRIFICE 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  ever  call  you  by  the  sacred 
name  of  mother  again,  for  there  is  no  real  motherhood 
in  you.  You  have  outraged  the  sanctity  of  the  sweetest 
soul  that  ever  lived,  my  Dolores,  my  wife,  my  love! 
I'll  never  forgive  you  nor  look  upon  your  face  again 
until  she  is  restored  to  me.  You  couldn't  have  done 
anything  that  would  drive  me  further  from  you  than 
this!" 

She  started  up  from  her  chair  in  horror,  her  pale  face 
drawn  into  lines  of  agony,  and  held  out  her  arms  to 
him  imploringly. 

"My  son,  my  son,  what  are  you  saying  to  me ?"  she 
cried,  a  horrible  fear  in  her  voice. 

"I  mean  every  word,"  he  returned,  not  heeding  her 
gesture.  "  You  have  so  far  lost  every  sense  of  mother- 
hood that  my  unhappiness  counts  for  nothing  in  com- 
parison to  your  miserable  pride!  The  paltry  ambi- 
tions of  you  and  all  your  tribe  are  not  worth  one  sigh  of 
Dolores'  heart,  or  one  tear  from  her  dear  eyes.  You 
live  in  a  false  world,  all  of  you,  a  show  world,  and  you 
are  making  believe,  always,  that  it's  true,  when  it's 
nothing  but  sham  and  veneer  and  rubbish!  You  don't 
know  what  life  is!  You've  never  lived — my  God! 
You've  never  lived  a  moment!" 

She  stared  at  him  and  listened  with  incredulous  ears 
as  he  talked  and,  as  he  ended,  she  sank  into  a  paroxysm 
of  weeping  in  her  chair. 

He  went  out  blindly  and  groped  his  way  into  the 
dining-room  where  Constance,  who  had  heard  him 

245 


THE  DRAG-NET 

come,  and  go  into  his  mother's  room,  was  waiting  for 
him. 

He  was  deadly  pale  and  trembling.  She  did  not 
speak,  but  threw  her  arms  about  him  protectingly. 

"Constance,  she's  gone!  she's  gone!"  he  cried, 
pressing  his  cheek  upon  her  hair. 

"Who — Dolores?"  she  asked  in  a  frightened  voice. 

"Yes,  my  wife,  my  wife!"  he  answered,  her  tone 
and  sympathy  unmanning  him. 

"Oh,  how  awful,  Chummie,  how  awful!"  she  cried, 
pressing  her  face  to  his  breast  all  the  more.  "How 
did  it  happen?" 

"Your  mother  and  mine  did  it,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"Your  mother  and  mine  —  oh,  God,  I  can't  bear  to 
think  of  how  she  was  stretched  upon  the  rack  and  every 
fine  and  beautiful  feeling  that  she  had  tortured  and 
broken.  Poor  thing,  poor  little  tender-hearted  thing — 
and  I  wasn't  there  to  protect  her  from  her  executioner, 
the  executioner  —  your  mother  and  mine!" 

A  great  welling  of  tears  rained  from  his  eyes  and 
Constance  wept  convulsively  upon  his  breast. 

His  grief  ruled  him  but  for  a  few  moments;  then  he 
held  his  sister  away  and  patted  her  head  gently. 

"  Dear,  I  may  find  her  yet.  There  are  several  trains 
and  to-night  not  one  shall  leave  without  a  searching. 
I  must  get  Fenleigh  and  set  about  my  work." 

He  was  alert  now  and  went  rapidly  towards  the  door. 

"Let  me  come,  too,  Chummie.  Please  let  me  go  to 
one  of  the'  trains,"  begged  Constance. 

246 


A  CALL  TO  SELF-SACRIFICE 

He  hesitated.  "  No,  dear,  Fenleigh  and  I  can  make 
them  all,"  he  answered. 

She  clung  to  him  at  the  door.  She  could  not  express 
her  love  and  grief  enough. 

"Prentiss,"  she  whispered,  her  lips  at  his  ear,  "I'll 
pray  that  God  won't  let  her  quite  get  away  from  us." 

"Good,"  he  answered.  "Prayers  from  such  lips  as 
yours  are  not  blasphemies;  they  are  from  the  lips  of 
most  people  —  people  of  her  kind,"  he  said  bitterly, 
indicating  his  mother's  door. 

"Poor  mother,  she  doesn't  know  what  all  the  world's 
a-dreaming  now,"  said  Constance,  painfully. 

He  looked  at  her  surprisedly  and  she  answered  the 
look. 

"She  doesn't  know  that  her  old  way  of  thinking  is 
old-fashioned,  absolutely,  and  that  the  truly  noble  and 
the  truly  aristocratic  idea  is  the  upliftment  of  humanity." 

With  the  ghost  of  a  smile  he  took  the  sweet  face 
between  his  hands  and,  looking  into  her  eyes,  asked: 
"Where  did  you  get  it,  Connie?" 

"It's  all  in  Mr.  Lyndhurst's  book,  and  he's  coming 
to-morrow.  I  cabled  him  as  soon  as  I  could  and  he'll 
help  us  out  of  this  mess,  darling,  you'll  see.  Mother 
doesn't  know  he's  coming.  He  can  manage  her.  He's 
aristocratic,  you  know." 

With  a  shrug  he  released  his  sister.  "That's  it,  I 
suppose,  'Upliftment'  must  have  the  stamp  upon  it  or 
it  won't  pass  with  her.  Now  I  must  go  and  seek 
Fenleigh  and  give  him  his  work.  Good-night,  dear." 

247 


CHAPTER  XXV 

REDDING 

SHE  was  not  found.  The  trains  left  one  by  one  until 
the  last  was  out  of  sight  and  there  was  no  sign  of  her. 

Fenleigh  watched  his  chief  anxiously.  The  suffering 
that  he  saw  in  Morello's  face  hurt  the  old  man  who  had 
his  welfare  so  much  at  heart. 

"Come,  let's  go  home,"  he  said,  as  the  lights  of  the 
train  died  out  in  the  distance.  "  There's  nothing  more 
to  be  done." 

"Home,  home,"  said  Morello  bitterly.  "I  tell  you, 
Fenleigh,  it  will  be  like  a  body  with  the  life  gone  out. 
A  husk,  a  mere  shell." 

"We  shall  get  her  back,  old  man,  we  shall  get  her 
back.  I'll  have  things  in  shape  in  a  month  or  so,  so 
that  you  can  go  to  England  and  bring  her  back." 

"Yes,  I  may  have  to  do  that." 

"It  isn't  so  bad  now  that  we  know  where  she  is,  you 
know.  Why,  any  young  wife  could  go  back  on  a  visit  to 
her  mother.  It  will  only  be  a  visit,  you'll  see." 

"But  she  hasn't  enough  money  to  take  her." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Yes.  There  was  not  enough  money  in  the  drawer 
where  I  always  put  it  for  her.  She  couldn't  go  any 
class  with  that." 

248 


REDDING 

"Did  she  have  any  jewelry?" 

"No,  yes.     A  rare,  a  very  rare  old  brooch." 

"Maybe  she  pieced  out  with  that,"  suggested  the  old 
man. 

Morello  drew  in  his  breath  sharply.  It  stung  him  to 
think  of  his  wife  doing  such  a  thing. 

"  You  are  right.  To-morrow  I  will  visit  every  jewelry 
shop  in  town."  Then  he  exclaimed  as  he  saw  the 
old  man  prepare  to  step  on  the  car  with  him,  "This  is 
my  car,  not  yours,  Fenleigh." 

"I  know.    I'm  going  to  the  bungalow  with  you." 

"It  isn't  necessary.  Go  home  to  your  wife,"  said 
Morello,  moved  by  his  evident  affection. 

"She's  used  to  doing  without  me  occasionally.  I'm 
going  with  you,  unless  the  orders  are  positive  against  it." 

The  young  man  glanced  at  the  faithful  furrowed  face 
and  would  not  hurt  him  by  refusal. 

"Come  along,  then,  God  bless  you,"  he  said,  with 
what  was  intended  to  be  a  laugh,  but  that  brought  a 
lump  into  Fenleigh 's  throat. 

So  they  went  to  the  bungalow  together,  and  the  old 
man  fathered  him  in  a  bungling  but  sincere  fashion, 
until  he  went  to  his  room  for  the  night. 

The  next  day  Morello  made  the  rounds  of  the  jew- 
elers' shops  and  at  last  found  the  brooch  and  bought  it. 
The  price  was  such  that  he  knew,  unless  they  had  pur- 
chased it  for  far  less  than  its  value  to  them,  that  she 
would  have  enough  to  get  to  her  people.  That  she  was 
on  her  way  to  her  old  home,  he  had  no  doubt,  and  the 

249 


THE  DRAG-NET 

only  thing  to  do  was  to  write  her  every  day  the  gentle, 
reasonable  letters  that  would  appeal  to  her.  He  must 
not  forget  that  he  had  promised  her  freedom  if  she 
would  marry  him.  He  would  tell  her  that  she  had  the 
right  to  go  if  she  wished,  but  he  would  also  tell  her  that 
her  going  had  not  restored  him  to  his  family  or  his  for- 
tune and  he  would  picture  the  desolateness  of  his  life 
without  her;  then  in  a  month's  time  he  would  go  to  her 
with  the  hope  and  expectation  of  bringing  her  back. 

He  devoted  himself  feverishly  and  fearlessly  to  his 
work  for  a  week.  Valuable  clues  were  in  his  hands 
that,  traced,  he  hoped  would  lead  to  the  discovery  of 
those  who  were  protecting  vice  in  the  city,  that  is,  the 
vice  that  paid  a  goodly  sum  for  police  protection  or, 
rather,  police  blindness.  There  were  some  high  offi- 
cials, poseurs  in  the  realm  of  aristocratic  respectability, 
whose  names  were  whispered  about  as  instigators  of 
this  procedure.  They  must  be  cleared  or  convicted 
and  the  thing  stopped.  His  desire  bade  him  rush  after 
Dolores  as  fast  as  traveling  permitted,  but  the  work 
must  not  be  stopped  even  for  that.  He  already  saw 
some  colossal  villains  entangled  in  the  Drag-Net;  until 
the  work  was  done  his  desire  must  not  be  remembered. 
He  was  used  to  self -discipline.  He  recognized  the  time 
for  it  at  once  and  plunged  into  work. 

Redding  was  about  town  again.  He  was  but  a  pleas- 
ure seeker  and  his  big  red  touring  car  was  frequently  in 
evidence  upon  the  streets.  The  paths  of  the  young 
men  crossed  several  times,  but  the  beaten  man  would 

250 


REDDING 

not  see  Morello  and  thus  gave  the  impression  that  the 
incident  was  ended. 

"  He  is  a  coward.  He  wants  no  more  of  me,"  Morello 
told  himself,  thankful  that  Redding  took  this  view  of 
the  case.  So  he  tried  to  oust  him  from  his  mind  as  he 
tried  to  disentangle  his  thoughts  from  all  extraneous 
affairs  and  concentrate  them  upon  his  plans  for  a  reme- 
dial administration  of  criminal  affairs.  This  impres- 
sion was  exactly  the  one  Redding  calculated  upon  cre- 
ating in  Morello 's  mind.  He  was  suffering  still  from 
that  beating  and  every  tinge  of  pain  was  accompanied 
by  a  rankling  hatred  and  a  determination  to  settle  the 
score  between  them.  He  was  very  arrogant  indeed, 
indeed — a  near-lord  in  his  despotic  tendency;  and  to 
have  this  fellow,  this  editor  of  a  socialist  organ,  as  he 
contemptuously  called  the  Drag-Net,  strive  to  regulate 
his  affairs  in  any  way  was  not  to  be  borne.  He  had 
promptly  begun  suit  against  Morello  for  his  editorials 
in  his  paper  relative  to  his  ownership  of  certain  build- 
ings, but  that  was  not  all.  However,  it  was  all  that 
concerned  the  public.  The  rest  concerned  only  himself 
and  his  enemy. 

He  had  been  studying  Morello's  habits  ever  since  he 
had  been  able  to  be  out  of  doors.  He  knew  just  when 
Morello  arrived  at  his  office  and  when  he  left.  He  was 
getting  all  things  arranged  for  the  final  settlement. 
That  the  young  man  was  getting  into  trouble  with 
others  besides  himself  was  a  thing  in  his  favor.  No 
one  but  Fenleigh  and  his  own  people  knew  of  the 

251 


THE  DRAG-NET 

battle  in  the  bungalow,  and  every  one  knew  how  the 
fool  had  plunged  head-first  into  the  private  business 
affairs  of  some  of  the  most  influential  citizens  and  had 
tried  to  blacken  their  names  and  hold  them  up  as  hypo- 
crites before  the  people.  That  this  would  inevitably 
lead  to  his  silencing  went  without  saying;  but  where 
there  were  so  many  enemies  who  would  fix  the  blame  ? 

Night  after  night  Morello  went  from  the  office  early 
and  spent  the  evening  at  the  bungalow  writing  editorials 
for  his  paper  or  letters  to  Dolores,  and  Redding  cursed 
him  for  so  doing;  but,  keeping  what  patience  he  could, 
he  waited  his  hour. 

It  was  just  a  week  after  Dolores'  disappearance  that 
Morello  spent  one  evening  at  the  office — the  first  since 
her  disappearance.  A  business  appointment  kept  him 
late.  Redding  saw  the  men  he  waited  for  enter  the 
building  and  soon  the  head  of  one  framed  in  the  win- 
dow casing  of  the  office  above  a  few  moments  after. 
He  knew  them.  They  were  arch-offenders  against  the 
law.  He  laughed  disagreeably  as  he  thought  of  the 
futility  of  any  of  their  offers  to  Morello.  Deep  as  his 
hatred  was,  he  realized  the  staunch  integrity  of  his 
enemy's  character.  He  wondered  if  he  had  received 
these  desperate  law-breakers  alone  or  if  that  old  watch 
dog,  Fenleigh,  were  with  him.  He,  Morello,  was  so 
entirely  unafraid,  so  possessed  by  the  idea  that  the 
work  he  had  to  do  must  be  done  by  him  that,  no  doubt, 
he  had  allowed  his  henchman  to  go  home  at  the  closing 
hour,  and  he  was  now  receiving  the  delegation  of  sin- 

252 


REDDING 

ners  alone.  Then,  too,  he  knew  that  he  always  went 
unarmed  since  the  killing  in  Saint  Pius.  It  was  said 
that  he  couldn't  touch  a  shooting  iron  of  any  kind  since 
that  time.  This,  too,  was  in  his  favor.  Fearlessness 
was  admirable,  but  to  throw  oneself  with  such  utter 
abandon,  unarmed,  among  the  wolves  howling  for  his 
blood  was  the  act  of  a  madman,  a  man  simply  drunk 
with  the  idea  of  his  own  greatness  and  the  necessity  of 
his  work. 

"After  all  is  said  and  done,  he's  simply  a  conceited 
fool,"  Redding  summed  up,  a  snarl  of  derision  on  his 
lips,  "and  his  grand  pose  as  a  reformer  will  not  keep 
him  from  getting  what's  coming  to  him." 

Ten  o'clock  struck  and  shortly  afterwards  he  saw 
from  his  vantage  point  the  men  leave  the  office.  He 
had  not  thought  the  interview  would  last  so  long.  He 
had  thought  Morello  would  send  them  about  their 
business  in  short  order.  But  it  was  possible  that  he 
would  be  idiot  enough  to  try  to  convert  them.  The 
fool  thing  was  what  he  had  to  expect  in  the  case  of  that 
young  man.  The  idea  of  converting  those  three,  buyers 
of  councilmen,  bribers  of  jurymen,  friends  of  thugs  and 
prostitutes,  made  him  chuckle  inwardly  with  amuse- 
ment. 

Next,  from  his  vantage  point  opposite,  he  saw  a 
man  in  a  greatcoat  and  slouch  hat  slip  quietly  down 
the  block  and  after  looking  about  enter  the  shadow  of 
the  alley.  He  cursed  inwardly.  He  might  have  known 
there  would  be  some  one  to  frustrate  his  plans,  he  told 

253 


THE  DRAG-NET 

himself,  but  would  this  man  frustrate  them?  Might 
he  not  be  made  to  help  his  plans  along  ?  The  man  had 
limped  a  trifle,  was  dressed  meanly  and  had  acted  fur- 
tively. Might  he  not  be  made  useful?  There  was 
little  time  to  think.  Morello  would  be  getting  home 
now  that  that  precious  group  had  left  the  office.  He 
resolved  to  go  around  the  block,  enter  the  alley  from 
the  other  end  and  see  what  its  murky  darkness  con- 
cealed. 

The  streets  were  comparatively  quiet  at  this  hour, 
the  theaters  and  dance  halls  not  yet  pouring  forth  their 
habitues.  He  had  depended  upon  this  fact.  He  met 
no  one  he  knew  and  soon  found  himself  in  the  alley. 
He  was  not  a  coward  and  the  fact  that  he  had  no  re- 
volver did  not  deter  him  from  his  stealthy  search. 
Revolvers,  he  thought  disgustedly,  were  not  for  him  — 
big,  noisy,  demonstrative  things.  He  had  learned  bet- 
ter, in  Italy,  in  Egypt,  and  elsewhere  in  the  Old  World, 
where  deeds  of  crime  were  committed  more  artistically. 

His  pulses  quickened  with  every  step.  He  felt  in  his 
pocket  for  what  he  called  his  pencil.  It  looked  like  a 
flat,  partly-worn  carpenter's  pencil.  There  was  even  a 
bit  of  red  wax  on  the  end  to  make  the  semblance  com- 
plete. It  was  scarcely  more  than  four  inches  in  length, 
but  the  four  inches  of  bright  steel  that  it  concealed 
could  do  as  deadly  work  as  was  needed.  It  had  a  his- 
tory, that  carpenter's  pencil.  He  had  been  interested 
in  it  when  the  donor  had  related  it  to  him,  but  he  was 
more  interested  now  in  the  history  it  was  to  make. 

254 


REDDING 

Yes,  the  history  it  was  to  make,  that  had  been  settled 
by  him  and  not  a  doubt  of  that  history  entered  his 
heated  brain.  The  idea  of  giving  it  all  up  because 
what  Morello  had  done  to  him  was  just,  and  what  he 
would  have  done  to  any  one  if  he  had  been  placed  as 
Morello  was  placed,  did  not  occur  to  him.  He  had 
been  beaten,  injured,  and  the  injurer  should  pay  dearly 
for  it.  He  was  not  a  coward,  he  told  himself,  that  he 
should  bear  such  a  thing.  Since  that  day  at  the  bunga- 
low he  had  learned  much  of  Morello.  He  had  listened 
to  encomiums  upon  him  from  his  friends  with  inward 
sneers.  He  had  listened  to  vituperations  from  his  ene- 
mies with  keen  delight.  Here  was  a  fellow  who  had  set 
himself  up  to  be  the  conscience  of  the  city — setting  forth, 
in  his  socialistic  sheet  the  right  and  wrong  of  laws  and 
customs.  There  were  no  halos  about  the  heads  of  the 
wealthy  and  socially  prominent  for  him  and  he  never 
bent  a  knee  at  the  shrine  of  things-as-they-are,  but 
worshipped  at  the  altar  of  things-as-they-should-be. 
This  was  the  programme  of  every  fanatic  and  ill-bred 
malcontent  in  existence.  It  was  not  gentlemanly.  He 
was  not  a  gentleman  and  consequently  would  not 
fight;  so  there  was  no  help  for  this  sort  of  secret  war- 
fare, which  was  justifiable  under  the  circumstances, 
though  he  was  seeking  no  excuse,  nor  did  he  care  for 
one. 

He  searched  the  shadows  as  he  slipped  down  the 
alley.  A  pile  of  packing  boxes  he  investigated,  but 
found,  seemingly,  no  one.  The  place  was  empty.  He 

255 


THE  DRAG-NET 

concluded  the  man  had  slipped  through  to  the  other 
street  and  was  gone.  It  was  better  so.  He  wanted  no 
ally,  no  witness,  no  bungling.  He  wanted  to  wing 
Morello,  so  that  his  pyrotechnic  flight  might  be  ended 
and  the  city  rid  of  such  a  troublesome  character.  A 
bad  wound  would  do.  This  would  bring  him  to  his 
senses,  if  he  recovered. 

He  walked  far  enough  out  of  the  alley  to  see  that  the 
lights  were  out  in  Morello 's  office  and  then  slipped 
back  into  the  deep  shadow  and  waited.  A  couple  of 
newsboys  laughing  and  talking  about  their  own  affairs 
sauntered  by;  then  there  was  a  firm  step  upon  the 
pavement  and  Redding  slipped  his  hand  into  his 
pocket.  The  next  instant  his  arms  were  pinioned  be- 
hind his  back  and  a  deep  voice  that  he  recognized 
hissed : 

"Keep  still,  you  hound!" 

Some  thought  of  policy  made  Redding  obey,  though 
his  features  were  convulsed  with  anger.  Then  Morello 
walked  heavily  by,  looking  straight  before  him,  and  in 
another  minute  Redding's  arms  were  released  and  he 
whirled  to  face  his  captor. 

"So  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  sneered,  looking  into  Fen- 
leigh's  stolid  face. 

"Yes,  it's  me,  all  right,  I'm  glad  to  say." 

"On  a  still  hunt,  hey?  Are  you  back  on  the  police 
force  ?" 

Ignoring  the  last  question  the  old  man  replied, 
"Yes,  on  a  hunt,  but  I  only  bagged  carrion." 

256 


REDDING 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  call  the  police  and  give  you  in 
custody  for  holding  me  up,"  Redding  snapped. 

Fenleigh  laughed.     "Do,  do,"  he  urged. 

Redding  turned  quickly  and  lunged  at  him  in  his 
anger,  but  the  old  man  was  agile  for  all  his  years  and 
dodged  the  blow.  The  next  instant  he  covered  the 
infuriated  man  with  his  revolver. 

"  Listen  to  me  now,  you  whelp ;  if  you  are  sensible, 
then  you  can  go,"  he  said,  his  voice  tense  with  meaning. 
"You  were  laying  for  Morello.  I've  been  expecting  it 
and  you  may  intend  to  do  it  again,  but  if  any  harm 
comes  to  him  I  shall  know  where  to  look  for  the  harmer, 
and  by  the  living  God  I'll  track  you  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth!  I  swear  that  you  shall  pay  dearly  for  it;  so  if 
you  have  a  grain  of  sense  you'll  mind  your  own  affairs 
and  leave  him  alone." 

"Bah!"  exclaimed  Redding  disgustedly.  "You're 
crazy,  you  and  all  your  tribe.  I  was  minding  my  busi- 
ness. You  are  simply  a  highwayman  holding  me,  an 
unarmed  man,  up  with  a  revolver.  I  have  a  good  case 
against  you,  my  man,  and  you  will  probably  hear  from 
me." 

"Shucks!"  laughed  Fenleigh;  "the  law  you  would 
resort  to  would  grind  you  to  powder!  You  are  down 
and  out,  Redding,  and  you  might  as  well  give  up." 

"I'll  see  you  in  hell  first,"  hissed  the  young  man. 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  see  you  to  the  station;  shall  I, 
or  will  you  go  about  your  business?" 

With  a  gesture  and  a  snarl  Redding  started  to  walk 

257 


THE  DRAG-NET 

back  through  the  length  of  the  alley  and  Fenleigh  put 
up  his  weapon  with  a  sigh  and  turned  his  steps  in  the 
direction  of  his  home,  assured  that  Morello  was  already 
upon  his  way  to  the  bungalow  and  that  for  that  night, 
at  least,  he  was  safe. 


258 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MADAM  MORELLO'S  EDUCATION 

THE  Honorable  William  Lyndhurst  arrived  from 
England  long  before  Madam  Morello  expected  him. 
Indeed,  he  arrived  the  day  following  Dolores'  departure. 
Constance's  cable  despatch  had  had  much  more  effect 
than  any  plans  that  the  dignified  lady  could  make;  and 
he  came  gladly,  joyously,  and  set  to  work  to  help  Con- 
stance unwind  the  tangled  threads  of  philosophy  and 
sophistry  in  her  mother's  brain. 

First  of  all  he  heard,  without  gloss  of  any  kind,  the 
whole  story  of  Dolores  and  Prentiss  Morello.  Then 
they  formulated  an  educational  campaign  as  the  only 
thing  likely  to  bear  desirable  results  in  regard  to  them. 

On  the  day  following  his  arrival  he  requested  an 
interview  with  Madam  Morello  and  formally  asked 
for  the  hand  of  Constance  in  marriage. 

She  had  been  greatly  perturbed  by  his  coming,  but 
since  Dolores  had  departed  she  did  not  despair  of  the 
match  with  Constance;  and  this  prompt  action  on  his 
part  brought  back  some  of  her  pride  and  consequence. 

She  sat  up  very  straight  and  replied  in  her  grand 
dame  fashion: 

"  Before  we  speak  of  your  desire  to  marry  my  daugh- 
ter, Mr.  Lyndhurst,  it  is  only  right  and  becoming  that  I 

259 


THE  DRAG-NET 

should  tell  you  some  of  the  disagreeable  things  con- 
nected with  my  family.  You  should  enter  no  family 
without  knowing  all  about  it." 

He  took  his  cue  and  threw  into  his  own  manner 
a  lofty  pride  and  gallantry  that  he  knew  she  would 
delight  in. 

"The  desire  does  you  honor,  Madam;  but  I'm  sure 
there  can  be  nothing  seriously  disagreeable  in  your 
family,"  he  said  impressively. 

"You  are  very  kind,  but  you  do  not  know,"  she 
said,  holding  her  head  higher  than  ever.  "There  is 
something  seriously  disagreeable  in  our  family." 

"  More  than  ever  do  I  wish  to  surround  your  daugh- 
ter with  such  love  and  care  that  she  will  be  able  to 
forget  everything  unpleasant." 

"Yes,  that  is  praiseworthy,  and  I'm  sure  Constance 
will  not  remain  untouched  by  such  devotion  when  I 
relate  your  words  to  her,  should  you  still  desire  to 
press  your  suit  when  you  know,"  she  responded.  Oh, 
how  full  of  integrity  she  was.  Not  a  bit  of  that  lofty 
integrity  should  escape  this  aristocratic  suitor  for  her 
daughter's  hand. 

"As  to  not  pressing  my  suit,  my  dear  Madam  Mo- 
rello,"  he  replied,  scarcely  able  to  keep  the  inward 
amusement  in  abeyance,  "that,  of  course,  is  utterly 
impossible.  My  happiness  is  in  your  hands  and  I'm 
sure  you  will  not  be  so  cruel  as  not  to  give  your  con- 
sent and  to  intercede  for  with  me  with  one  whom  I 
regard  as  the  dearest  object  on  earth." 

260 


MADAM  MORELLO'S  EDUCATION 

"  Constance  is  all  that  is  left  to  me,  Mr.  Lyndhurst, 
and  — " 

"Pardon  me,  Madam,  but  it  has  just  occurred  to 
me  that  there  is  something  in  my  own  life  —  your 
exalted  idea  of  honor  reminds  me  that  I,  too,  ought  to 
make  a  confession  before  you  intrust  to  my  keeping  the 
one  who  is  so  precious  to  you." 

The  dignified  lady  was  honestly  incredulous.  She 
knew  the  Lyndhurst  history  and  had  assured  herself  of 
the  gentleman's  entire  eligibility  and  desirability  before 
they  had  left  England. 

"A  confession?  You,  Mr.  Lyndhurst?"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Yes,  Madam,  and  I  beg  of  you  to  allow  me  to  make 
mine  first.  I  did  not  intend  to  let  you  know  this  before 
receiving  your  promise,  but  with  your  example  before 
me  I  must,  if  you  will  permit." 

"Proceed,  then;  I  will  listen,"  she  replied. 

He  took  all  the  delight  of  an  actor  in  a  drama  in 
carrying  this  conversation  to  what,  he  was  well  aware, 
would  be  a  happy  conclusion,  a  concession  to  him  of 
all  he  asked.  That  the  formula  must  be  gone  through 
with,  to  be  satisfactory  to  the  punctilious  lady,  he 
knew;  and  he  entered  with  boyish  enthusiasm  into  the 
little  play.  He  wished  Constance  might  hear  how  he 
carried  it  off. 

"  I  should  be  quite  afraid,"  he  began,  "did  I  not  know 
that  you  are  above  the  weaknesses  and  social  blind- 
nesses of  the  age,  to  make  my  confession ;  but  I  am  not 

261 


THE  DRAG-NET 

a  bad  reader  of  character,  Madam,  and  I  was  attracted 
at  first  by  your  lofty  ideals,  your  power  of  distinguishing 
between  the  veneer  that  merely  hides  and  the  true  gloss 
that  means  soundness  through  and  through." 

She  sat  straighter  than  ever  and  acknowledged  the 
tribute  with  a  graceful  bow. 

"Another  fact  leads  me  to  the  confession,  too,  and 
that  is  that  your  son  has  risen  up,  carrying  your  own 
spirit  of  nobility  to  its  logical  conclusion,  its  beautiful 
culmination,  in  a  work  that  is  designed  to  bring  into 
life  a  greater  justice  and  a  truer  mercy.  A  fearless, 
militant  soul  such  as  he  cannot  be  too  highly  appre- 
ciated." 

A  faint  color  rose  to  her  pale  cheeks,  an  uneasy 
light  to  her  eyes.  "I  don't  know,"  she  began,  but  he 
broke  in  with  a  courteous  "Permit  me,"  and  continued. 

"You  cannot,  of  course,  sound  the  praises  of  your 
son,  Madam,  but  neither  must  you  deny  me  the  pleasure 
of  giving  him  his  just  due.  He  is  so  young  that  it  is 
nothing  less  than  wonderful,  the  way  he  has  trampled 
under  foot  the  sophistry,  the  weakness,  the  pitiful 
assumptions  of  wealth  and  birth  and  power,  and  has 
uncovered  them  all  to  the  gaze  of  the  throng,  in  the 
name  of  all  that  is  truly  sacred  and  truly  noble." 

"I  think  you  cannot  understand,"  she  faltered  again. 

"  Oh,  but  I  do.  I  heard  all  about  him  at  my  hotel. 
He  is  for  the  weak,  the  poor,  the  friendless.  He  is 
against  those  who  are  perpetuating  this  condition.  It 
is  the  age  of  reform,  dear  Madam.  The  best  in  all 

262 


MADAM  MORELLO'S  EDUCATION 

lands  have  raised  their  voices  for  reform;  have  given 
their  all,  and  are  working  their  best  for  a  true  socialism." 

"  Socialism!"  she  gasped  as  she  heard  the  hated  word. 

"Yes,  socialism!  The  true  socialism!  Not  license, 
not  anarchy,  not  war,  but  the  socialism  of  peace  and 
equal  opportunity.  Not  the  seizure  of  wealth  and  its 
distribution  among  the  poor,  but  no  discrimination 
against  the  poor  in  favor  of  the  rich.  Socialism  is  the 
real  brotherliness,  that  is,  the  real  Christlikeness,  that  is 
the  twentieth  century  socialism.  I  have  written  a  book 
about  it,  Madam  Morello.  If  you  will  do  me  the  honor 
to  read  it,  I  feel  sure  that  you,  with  your  high  ideals, 
your  wonderful  sense  of  truth  and  justice,  will  give  me 
your  benediction  and  bid  me  go  on  as  you  have  your 
noble  son." 

He  was  quite  shameless  in  his  assumptions,  but  his 
task  should  be  done  well. 

"You  have  written  a  book  on  socialism?"  she  cried, 
all  at  sea  as  to  the  proper  method  of  receiving  this 
astounding  information. 

"Ah!  You  wouldn't  have  believed  it,  would  you?" 
he  laughed,  rising  and  walking  about  in  his  enthusiasm; 
"but  there  is  something  worthy  in  me,  Madam,  I'm 
not  one  to  remain  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb,  and  to  let 
the  work  of  the  world  be  done  by  others,  while  I  dawdle 
away  the  precious  years,  content  to  be  a  fashionable 
nonentity.  I  want  to  be  in  the  fight,  too!  All  the  best 
people  are  in  the  grand  cataclysm  that  is  to  swamp 
caste  and  privilege;  they  are  bringing  it  on!" 

263 


THE  DRAG-NET 

The  poor  lady  was  trembling.  There  were  no 
society  dicta  that  she  knew  for  such  a  situation  and  she 
did  not  know  how  to  meet  it.  Her  landmarks  were 
crumbling.  All  her  most  cherished  ideas  were  becom- 
ing petty ;  all  her  most  hated  ideas  were  looming  on  the 
social  horizon  large  and  grand.  Was  it  possible  that 
while  she  had  been  content  to  bask  in  fortune's  lap  a 
new  era  had  come  into  existence  ?  Was  the  position  of 
Wealth  and  Idleness  really  discredited  and  had  that  of 
poverty  and  toil  become  honorable?  She  could  not 
accept  the  idea,  at  least,  not  at  once. 

"I'm  too  ill  to  reason  with  you,  Mr.  Lyndhurst," 
she  said  with  a  great  sigh.  "  I  will  think  of  what  you 
have  said." 

"But  I  may  speak  to  Miss  Morello,  dear  Madam, 
may  I  not?" 

"Yes, "she  replied  rising.  "Yes,  talk  it  over  with 
her.  Your  book  is  a  great  surprise." 

"I  knew  it  would  be,"  he  returned.  "To  be  a  mem- 
ber of  Parliament  is  little.  I  will  add  to  that  the  best 
work  I  can  do  to  usher  in  the  day  of  law  and  equality. 
If  your  daughter  consents  to  be  my  wife  she  will  be  a 
great  help  to  me." 

"It  does  seem  to  be  an  epidemic,"  she  said  grimly. 

He  smiled.  "Yes,  it  is.  It's  sweeping  the  earth.  I 
may  go  and  tell  Constance  I  have  your  consent?" 
taking  her  hand  and  pressing  it  warmly. 

"Yes,  and  perhaps  you  would  better  ask  Prentiss 
about  his  wife." 

264 


MADAM  MORELLO'S  EDUCATION 

He  lowered  his  voice  and,  still  holding  her  hand,  he 
looked  her  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"I  know  of  her  now.  I  think  her  a  most  lovable 
character.  You  will  not  find  me  unappreciative  of  her 
beauty,  her  talents  and  her  goodness.  I  hope  I  am 
not  superficial,  Madam." 

She  could  not  meet  his  kind,  straightforward  eyes. 
A  hot  flush  suffused  her  face.  She  threw  up  her  head, 
withdrew  her  hand  and  turned  away  in  dismissal  of 
him. 

Once  in  her  room  she  bowed  her  head  and  wept. 
"They  have  all  deserted  me,"  she  said.  "I  am  alone, 
alone.  The  world  is  all  awry." 

Lyndhurst  went  into  the  drawing-room  where  Con- 
stance was  waiting  for  him. 

"I  have  permission  to  talk  to  you  of  love,"  he  said, 
making  a  pretense  of  not  daring  to  touch  her  until  he 
had  obtained  her  consent;  then  he  folded  her  to  his 
breast  and  kissed  her  again  and  again. 

"  Suppose  you  had  waited  for  permission  until  now  ?" 
she  said,  laughing  happily. 

"I  should  have  lost  six  months  of  heaven,"  he 
replied. 


265 


CHAPTER  XXVH 
Nor  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

FENLEIGH  went  straight  to  the  Bishop  the  morning 
after  he  had  found  Redding  in  the  alley  and  related  the 
whole  affair  to  him.  The  old  man  was  sorely  troubled 
and  wanted  to  share  with  some  one  his  fears  and  to 
arouse  some  one  to  action;  and  he  was  surer  of  the 
Bishop  than  of  any  one,  for  were  they  not  partners  in 
their  love  for  Morello.  It  was  foolhardy,  he  told  him- 
self over  and  over  again,  to  take  no  precautions  against 
so  bold  and  vindictive  an  enemy. 

"Now,  if  he  would  only  carry  a  pistol  it  would  be 
something,"  he  said  to  the  Bishop,  noticing  with  grat- 
ification the  good  man's  look  of  distress. 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  would  do  any  good,  Fenleigh. 
Carrying  a  pistol  is  not  going  to  save  a  person  from 
one  who  is  low  enough  to  lie  in  ambush." 

Fenleigh  exclaimed  excitedly,  "Gad!  I  couldn't 
sleep  last  night  for  thinking  of  it.  Something's  got  to 
be  done!" 

"Morello  doesn't  know  as  yet?" 

"No.     He  had  taken  the  car." 

"I'll  telephone  him  to  come  here  before  he  goes  to 
the  office.  I  suppose  he  must  know,  though  it  seems  a 
pity,"  said  the  Bishop. 

266 


NOT  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

"He'll  be  down  by  nine,  he's  never  later,"  returned 
Fenleigh. 

"Very  well.  If  you  have  anything  to  attend  to  you 
can  go  and  do  it.  Be  back  by  nine  and  tell  him  about 
it." 

"'All  right,  sir,  I'll  be  back,  and  I  hope  we  can  per- 
suade him  to  take  precautions." 

"I  don't  just  see  what  precautions  he  can  take,  Fen- 
leigh, but  we'll  talk  it  over,"  returned  the  Bishop. 

"I  was  sorry  to  trouble  you,  sir,  but — " 

"You  were  right  to  come  to  me,"  returned  the  prel- 
ate. "I'm  the  one  to  be  troubled  about  it.  You  know 
how  the  old  man's  heart  dotes  on  that  boy,  Fenleigh," 
putting  his  hand  on  the  other's  shoulder.  • 

"There's  two  of  us,  sir,  two  of  us,"  responded  Fen- 
leigh, letting  his  eyes  fall  to  the  floor. 

"Bless  my  soul,  so  there  is!  Well,  we'll  try,  between 
us,  to  take  care  of  him." 

They  clasped  hands  at  the  door  and  then  Fenleigh 
found  himself  out  on  the  walk,  shuffling  along  with 
moistened  eyes,  which  he  was  ashamed  to  dry  with  his 
handkerchief. 

When  he  returned  at  nine  o'clock  he  found  Morello 
there,  but  no  word  had  been  spoken  about  the  matter 
by  the  Bishop.  They  were  discussing  the  framing  of  a 
bill  relating  to  prisons,  which  they  expected  to  put  before 
the  next  legislative  body. 

Fenleigh  waited  patiently  until  they  finished  and 
then  the  Bishop  remarked: 

267 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"It's  your  turn  now,  Fenleigh." 

The  old  man  then  related  without  circumlocution 
his  encounter  of  the  night  before. 

As  the  young  man  grasped  the  import  of  what  he 
said,  a  flush  sprang  to  his  cheek. 

"  Fenleigh — and  you  were  there  ?"  he  asked,  his  voice 
vibrating  with  gratitude  and  astonishment.  "  But  how 
under  the  sun,  did  you  — " 

"  I  knew  you  were  staying  in  the  office  with  that  gang 
of  thieves,"  the  old  man  answered,  "and  I  knew  you'd 
turn  them  down  prompter  than  they  was  ever  turned 
down  before;  and  I  said  to  myself,  Redding  would 
think  it  a  good  time  to  get  in  his  work,  cause  you'd 
have  to  pass  the  alley.  It's  the  first  night  you've  stayed 
down  since  — " 

"Yes,  I  see,"  returned  Morello;  "and  if  he  had  suc- 
ceeded, he  would  have  connected  them  with  it,  because 
I've  published  them  and  they  were  known  to  have  been 
with  me.  I  did  not  think  there  was  any  danger." 

"But  now,  boy,  now  what  can  we  get  you  to  do? 
Fenleigh  and  I  can't  stand  it.  You  should  have  more 
regard  for  us  old  fellows,"  said  the  Bishop  with  a 
lightness  he  didn't  feel. 

Morello  walked  up  and  down  for  a  minute,  his  eyes 
on  the  floor  in  a  brown  study. 

"What  can  you  get  me  to  do?"  he  repeated  at  last. 
"What  can  I  do?  Even  if  I  were  willing  to  carry  a 
revolver,  how  could  that  avail  me  against  one  who  is 
willing  to  fire  at  my  back  from  the  darkness  ?" 

268 


"After  all,  my  life  is  not  in  their  hands." 


NOT  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

"It  cannot,"  said  the  Bishop.  "That,  I  can  see,  is 
futile." 

"  But  every  one  knows  he  won't  touch  an  iron,  that 
he's  helpless!"  exclaimed  Fenleigh.  "If  only  no  one 
knew  that,  these  rascals  wouldn't  — " 

"After  all,"  Morello  suggested,  "my  life  is  not  in 
their  hands." 

"Gad!  Morello,  you're  foolish,  if  I  do  say  so,"  Fen- 
leigh broke  out,  unable  to  be  patient  with  such  an  idea. 
His  ethics  were  simple.  Cunning  had  to  be  met  by 
greater  cunning  and  the  lucky  fellow  was  the  one  who 
got  the  drop  on  the  other. 

The  Bishop  looked  at  Morello  with  fatherly  concern, 
knowing  that  he  should  properly  agree  with  him,  but 
thinking  sadly  of  all  the  lives  that  were  put  out  sud- 
denly by  enemies  in  ambush.  Were  they  then  given  up 
by  God  to  that  sort  of  thing  ?  —  for  it  was  clearly  to  an 
overruling  power  the  young  man  referred.  Though 
not  recognizing  churchly  authority,  there  had  not  been 
disturbed  in  Morello  a  deep-seated  belief  in  a  universe 
of  law  and  order,  ruled  over  by  a  just  and  omnipotent 
power.  To  the  untrammeled  mind  in  all  the  breadth 
and  depth,  springing  from  those  ancestors  who  had 
sought  "freedom  to  worship  God"  in  the  new  world, 
he  united  the  implicit  faith  in  that  essential  power  that 
has  ever  fortified  the  soul  of  the  highest  type  of  Spaniard. 

Morello  looked  at  the  Bishop  instead  of  answering 
Fenleigh.  "What  do  you  think?"  he  asked. 

The  clergyman  dropped  his  eyes.     "I  think  if  we 

269 


THE  DRAG-NET 

have  common  sense,  we'll  use  it  to  protect  ourselves 
against  vicious  people,"  he  said. 

"  So  do  I.  I  will  not  run  into  any  danger  I  can  avoid 
without  neglecting  my  work;  but  I  maintain  that  my 
life  is  not  in  their  hands.  It  was  but  the  other  day  that 
a  man  shot  at  another  within  four  feet  of  him  and  shot 
with  intent  to  kill,  shot  twice,  but  didn't  kill.  Some- 
thing, some  power,  made  his  hand  waver  just  at  the 
moment.  It  wasn't  to  be." 

"Surely,  boy,  you're  not  running  after  fatalism," 
sighed  the  Bishop. 

"  No,  I'm  not.  That,  least  of  all.  But  we've  no  time 
to  go  into  that.  Now  what  is  indicated  in  my  case  ?" 

"That  you  carry  a  revolver,"  Fenleigh  responded 
quickly,  looking  at  his  chief  with  his  whole  soul  in  his 
eyes. 

"That  I  shall  never  do,  old  man,"  returned  Morello, 
smiling  at  him  affectionately. 

"At  least  you  can  remain  at  home  at  night,  for 
a  time,"  supplemented  the  Bishop,  regarding  him 
intently. 

"I  cannot  ask  men  to  meet  me  in  the  bungalow, 
Bishop,  it's  too  far;  and  I  must  meet  and  talk  to  men  — 
to  men,  droves  of  them.     There's  work  coming  up — do 
you  know  we're  on  the  trail  of  the  arch-scoundrels  who 
keep  the  ball  of  vice  rolling  in  its  well-oiled  grooves  ?" 

"The  principals,  hey?"  asked  the  Bishop,  his  eyes 
lighting. 

"Yes,  the  principals,  high  up  officials,  who  have  the 

270 


NOT  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

lesser  law-breakers  by  the  throat  and  at  their  mercy. 
There's  a  mine  out  on  the  desert,  that  is,  a  hole  in  the 
ground,  dignified  by  the  name  of  mine,  whose  worth- 
less stock  is  thrust  down  the  throats  of  those  who  wish 
to  be  protected  in  their  illicit  liquor  selling,  illegal  gam- 
bling and  brothel  keeping.  Oh,  it's  a  deep-laid  plot 
and  we're  on  the  trail  of  the  arch-offenders,  yes,  we're 
on  the  right  trail,  I  feel  sure." 

"Hot  on  their  trail,"  Fenleigh  repeated,  doubling  up 
his  hand  as  though  he  had  the  men  responsible  for  the 
intolerable  situation  in  the  municipal  government  in 
his  fist;  "and  you'll  see;  when  the  Drag-Net  comes  out 
next  week  they'll  scamper  around  like  a  lot  of  ants 
when  a  big  foot  comes  down  on  top  of  their  hill." 

"In  view  of  this  I  don't  see  how  I  can  very  well  sug- 
gest your  going  to  England,"  remarked  the  Bishop, 
looking  at  him  tentatively. 

"No,  you  cannot,  nor  would  I  consider  it,"  Morello 
replied  decisively.  "No,  I'll  stick  to  my  post."  His 
face  took  on  its  look  of  concern  and  misery.  "They 
may  get  me,"  he  continued,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other;  "that  will  be  a  matter  of  my  deserts,  I  feel 
sure;  but  if  they  do  it  must  be  at  my  post." 

Then  a  silence  fell  upon  them  and  Fenleigh  fetched 
a  big  sigh,  seemingly  from  a  great  depth,  as  he  looked 
at  the  young  man  and  thought  of  the  stupendous  task 
before  him. 

"I  confess,  I  don't  know  what  measures  to  suggest," 
said  the  Bishop  at  last. 

271 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"I  don't  believe  any  measures  any  one  could  suggest 
would  be  effective,"  said  Morello,  throwing  up  his 
head,  the  ring  of  battle  in  his  voice.  "I  must  just  go  on 
fighting  my  fight  for  the  poor  and  illiterate  and  help- 
less against  the  sharks  and  harpies  that  some  way  have 
gotten  control  of  things  here.  I  believe  I  was  given  the 
work  to  do,  given  it  by  that  unseen  Power  we  three 
believe  in;  and  as  long  as  I  am  doing  it  I  am  safe;  or  if 
not  that,  in  some  way  my  taking  off  will  be  effective  in 
that  very  work.  The  city  shall  have  my  life  if  it  needs 
it,  though  this  sounds  like  mock  heroism." 

Both  his  listeners  made  a  deprecating  gesture. 

"God  knows  I  want  to  live!"  Morello  went  on. 
"I've  much  to  live  for,  I've  really  lived  so  little.  Why, 
it  seems  to  me  I've  hardly  touched  life  as  yet.  I've  just 
been  in  the  center  of  a  huge  mistake  and  I'm  now 
fighting  my  way  out  through  the  whirlpools  to  the  edge, 
to  the  quiet,  where  growth  is." 

"  Growth  is  earned  that  way,"  said  the  Bishop,  smiling 
genially,  then  adding,  "to  quote  a  Morelloism. " 

"Yes,  that's  it,  to  quote  him,"  Fenleigh  remarked. 

With  an  answering  smile  the  young  man  returned: 
"It  seems  I  have  a  habit,  doesn't  it?  Well,  I  have  a 
good  many  ways,  some  of  which  I  should  not  have,  if 
one  would  believe  Dr.  Tidbits.  Did  you  read  what  he 
said  about  me  in  his  lecture  last  night?" 

"No,"  returned  the  Bishop  interestedly. 

"I'm  a  busybody  seeking  to  throw  the  city  into  a 
turmoil  that  may  result  in  a  business  panic.  I'm  trying 

272 


NOT  IN  THEIR  HANDS 

to  disgrace  the  city  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  I'm  a 
muck-raker,  a  meddlesome  iconoclast,  a  hotheaded 
youth  without  brain  or  the  wisdom  of  experience.  I'm 
a  sort  of  public  blackmailer  and  oh — I  don't  remember 
any  more." 

Fenleigh  rose,  red  faced  and  puffing,  a  vast  concern 
upon  his  features. 

"Tidbits,  did  you  say?"  he  queried. 

"Yes,  in  his  address  in  Music  Hall." 

He  took  out  his  notebook  and  wrote  a  line  in  it. 

"  Is  that  a  private  note,  Fenleigh  ?"  asked  the  Bishop. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir.  It's  just  this.  *  Investigate  Tid- 
bit's property.  I'm  on  to  him  now.  He's  in  it.  He's"- 

"Not  necessarily,  Fenleigh,"  Morello  interrupted, 
"not  necessarily.  There  are  lots  of  unreasoning  crea- 
tures who  would  rather  the  Augean  stables  remained  un- 
disturbed. The  infection  is  of  smaller  moment  to  them 
and  much  to  be  preferred  to  the  stench  of  their 
cleansing." 

The  old  man  mumbled  something  and  shook  his  head. 
He  was  not  so  forgiving  as  Morello. 

"Investigation  brings  but  honor  to  the  honest  man, 
so  there's  no  harm  in  looking  him  up,"  said  the  Bishop. 

Morello  looked  at  his  watch,  saying  that  he  should 
be  at  the  office  even  then. 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  Redding?" 
asked  the  Bishop  with  anxiety. 

"Well,  I  needn't  cross  that  alley,  at  least;  I  can  go 
the  other  way;  I  don't  know  what  else  to  do." 

273 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"I'll  watch  him,  sir,  I'll  watch  him  as  well  as  I  can," 
said  Fenleigh  as  they  were  leaving  the  house,  and  with 
that  the  Bishop  had  to  be  content. 


274 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  Two  LOVERS 

A  FORTNIGHT  passed  by  without  further  attempt  on 
the  part  of  Redding  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  the 
young  editor  of  the  Drag-Net.  It  was  evidently  his 
intention  to  wait  until  the  fight  with  the  evil  forces 
thickened,  until  the  smoke  of  battle  lay  so  densely  over 
the  heads  of  those  officials  responsible  for  the  immunity 
of  those  who  battened  upon  the  spoils  of  the  poor, 
ignorant  and  viciously  inclined,  that  he  would  not  be 
thought  of  in  case  of  Morello's  sudden  taking  off.  But 
old  Fenleigh  was  more  watchful  for  his  chief  than  ever, 
not  leaving  him  until  he  was  safe  in  the  bungalow,  no 
matter  how  late  the  hour.  He  would  have  taken  up  his 
residence  with  him,  but  for  the  young  man's  positive 
refusal  to  allow  it. 

The  Drag-Net  found  its  way  everywhere  and  sold 
upon  the  streets  in  great  numbers.  It  might  be  that  in 
many  cases  mere  curiosity  was  the  motive  in  buying; 
it  might  be  that  an  unhallowed  gladness  was  excited  in 
many  unenlightened  minds,  as  its  enemies  claimed, 
when  men  hitherto  thought  to  be  honorable  had  their 
sheep's  clothing  torn  ruthlessly  off  and  were  displayed 
in  all  their  wolfish  ferocity;  these  things  were  the  inva- 
riable accompaniments  of  such  renovating.  Morello 

275 


THE  DRAG-NET 

saw  no  other  way  but  that  of  attack  and  he  wisely 
refrained  from  a  weak  sentimentality  regarding  the 
lesser  evils  that  clung  about  such  attack.  He  had  set 
his  hand  to  the  plow  and  his  furrow  should  be  wide 
and  deep  and  straight  to  the  end. 

Mr.  Lyndhurst  begged  to  become  a  partner  in  his 
undertaking  and  at  first  he  refused. 

"I  don't  need  a  partner,  my  money  is  not  going. 
The  paper  is  paying  for  itself,"  he  said  rather  curtly 
when  the  proposition  was  made  to  him. 

"  But  when  this  battle  is  over  and  you've  conquered, 
as  you  will,  what  then?  The  sales  will  drop  off," 
replied  the  young  Englishman,  in  the  light  of  his 
greater  experience. 

"The  Drag-Net  was  born  to  oust  grafting  officials 
and  to  inaugurate  a  sane  and  remedial  penal  system 
and  when  its  work  is  done  it  can  go.  The  paper  is  only 
a  means,"  returned  Morello. 

"That's  the  true  spirit,  and  I'm  glad  to  hear  you 
announce  it,  but  you  don't  want  it  to  go  before  its  time, 
before  its  work  is  done,  do  you  ?"  asked  the  other. 

"No,  certainly  not,  and  it  won't!"  emphatically. 

"I've  had  much  experience  in  this  sort  of  thing," 
Lyndhurst  answered,  in  his  quiet  way,  "  and  let  me  tell 
you  that  when  the  personal  element  is  eliminated,  as  it 
will  be,  when  this  fight  is  over  and  you  fall  back  on  your 
prison  reform,  the  interest  will  wane;  and  it's  the  part 
of  wisdom  to  recognize  the  truth  about  people  and 
their  motives  and  to  act  accordingly." 

276 


THE  TWO  LOVERS 

"You  think,  then,  that  human  beings  are  so  callous, 
so  unfeeling  that  — " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  the  great  mass  of  humanity  is  not 
very  far  along  in  evolution  as  yet,"  he  interrupted,  "and 
when  the  personal  and  the  picturesque  is  eliminated 
and  only  the  ethical,  the  humanitarian,  is  left,  you'll 
find  that  it  will  be  left  behind  —  I've  tried  it." 

"Then  what  would  you  propose?"  asked  Morello, 
who  quickly  saw  that  Lyndhurst  was  right. 

"I  would  propose  to  make  it  personal  and  pictur- 
esque all  the  time,"  answered  the  Englishman  with 
animation. 

"How  would  you  do  this?" 

"I  would  start  a  prison  league,"  was  the  quick  re- 
joinder; and  the  young  man  stood  up  before  Morello 
and  gesticulated  in  his  intense  earnestness:  "a  prison 
league  that,  it  seems  to  me,  I  can  see  grow  and  grow 
until,  joined  to  societies  with  the  same  motive  in  other 
countries,  it  spans  the  world.  What  a  power  it  would 
be!  What  a  peace  congress,  what  a  universal  church, 
what  a  college,  what  a  nursery  for  unborn  generations!" 

Morello 's  look  changed.  "I  take  off  my  hat  to  you," 
he  said;  "go  on." 

"  This  prison  league  would  be  an  association  of  people 
who  are  clear  sighted  enough  to  see  that  the  cure  for 
criminality  is  kindness,  education,  guidance  and  plenty 
of  work.  Oh,  yes,  there  must  be  plenty  of  work!  And 
just  see  how  people  of  all  persuasions  would  belong  to 
this  league.  There's  not  a  church  that  doesn't  teach 

277 


THE  DRAG-NET 

the  brotherhood  of  man  and  that  it's  man's  duty  lo 
help  up  a  fallen  brother,  so  ministers  of  all  churches 
would  belong  to  it,  lawyers,  doctors,  professors,  all,  in 
time  would  belong  to  it,  for  it's  easy  to  make  the  intel- 
ligent see  that  in  order  to  cleanse  the  body  the  sore 
spot  must  be  seen  to  most  carefully." 

"I've  been  trying  to  make  them  see  that  prisons 
should  be  turned  into  schools  and  industrial  institu- 
tions administered  humanely  ever  since  I  knew,  my- 
self," assented  Morello. 

"  Let  me  come  in  and,  while  I  am  here  in  your  city, 
let  me  help  Bishop  Woods  to  start  this  league,"  said 
the  young  man,  adding,  "Constance  would  like  it, 
Morello." 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it,  if  she  has  heard  you  plead," 
answered  the  editor.  "Have  you  enlisted  the  Bishop, 
too?" 

"Indeed  I  have.  I  outlined  my  plans  and  he  is 
enthusiastic  about  it.  He  would  be  a  good  one  for  its 
first  president.  I  think  he  would  take  that  place." 

"I  like  the  idea  and  I'll  think  your  proposition 
over,"  said  Morello. 

Lyndhurst  dropped  his  voice  to  a  sympathetic 
cadence  and  remarked: 

"When  we  go  back,  Constance  and  I,  we  are  going 
to  see  Dolores,  Morello,  and  we  — " 

Morello 's  face  instantly  changed.  He  took  the  hand 
held  out  to  him  and  said  bitterly: 

"  Dolores  has  not  arrived  at  her  old  home.    I  received 

278 


THE  TWO  LOVERS 

this  letter  yesterday  from  her  father,"  handing  him  a 
letter  which  he  took  from  his  pocket. 

The  letter  was  read  in  silence  and  handed  back  with 
the  remark:  "There  may  be  many  reasons  why  she  has 
not  arrived  yet.  She  — " 

"There  can  be  but  one  reason,  illness,"  returned  the 
young  husband.  "  She  hadn't  money  to  stop  in  different 
places  on  the  way,  nor  would  she  wish  to.  Somewhere 
in  the  wide  world  she's  lying  ill  and  I  have  no  idea 
where." 

"  Jove,  old  man,  I  wish  I  could  do  something  for 
you!"  replied  Lyndhurst,  a  world  of  sympathy  in  his 
voice. 

"  I  cannot  see  that  one  of  us  can  stir  a  hand  to  right 
the  wrong  done  to  that  poor  girl,"  Morello  continued. 
"  Even  the  one  who  did  this  last  wrong,  who  drove  her 
away  from  her  home,  cannot  right  it,  though  she  might 
come  to  wish  it." 

"Wrongs  are  always  fugitives  and  are  never  over- 
taken," said  Lyndhurst,  unintentionally  oracular. 

"Does  she  show  any  signs  of  remorse?"  questioned 
Morello ;  and  the  other  knew  he  spoke  of  his  mother. 

"She  would  not,  even  if  she  felt  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"She's  intrenched  in  her  pride  as  in  a  fortress  and 
the  moat's  deep  and  the  drawbridge  always  up,"  sighed 
her  son. 

"But  she's  taking  me  into  the  family,  even  though 
I'm  responsible  for  a  book  on  Twentieth  Century  So- 
cialism. Isn't  that  a  good  sign?" 

279 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"The  book  doesn't  quite  cancel  your  social  assets, 
that's  it" 

"Morello,  she'll  relent;  she's  bound  to  in  the  very 
nature  of  things,"  returned  Lyndhurst  optimistically. 
"  Why,  this  shell  of  pride  and  aristocracy  has  grown  so 
thin,  the  world  over,  that  daylight  shows  through,  and 
it's  only  a  question  of  time  before  the  whole  fabric  will 
be  swept  away  before  the  power  and  might  of  a  righteous 
democracy." 

"  I  believe  it  is  so  and  I  rejoice  in  it,  but,  in  the  mean- 
time, my  wife,  my  dear  love,  is  adrift  in  the  world,  and 
I've  no  means  of  finding  or  succoring  her,  and  this 
criminal  pride  has  done  it." 

Constance's  lover  had  nothing  to  say  to  this;  he  was 
too  deeply  in  the  meshes  of  the  grand  passion  not  to 
feel  intensely  for  Morello  in  this  difficult  position;  and, 
trying  to  hearten  him,  he  spoke  with  a  confidence  he 
did  not  feel. 

"Probably  the  very  next  letter  will  be  from  her,"  he 
said. 

"I  hope  so,  indeed,"  was  the  hopeless  answer,  as 
Morello  turned  to  attend  to  his  pressing  work. 


280 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE  MISSING  LINK 

THE  good  work  went  steadily  on.  No  matter  how 
Morello  grieved  for  Dolores,  he  kept  at  his  post  and 
slaved  from  early  morning  until  late  at  night.  Half  a 
dozen  lawsuits  were  sprung  upon  him,  for  the  list  of 
names  of  those  owning  the  property  where  illegal  busi- 
ness was  carried  on  was  mercilessly  published.  In  one 
case  it  was  found  that  a  church  society  owned  the  build- 
ing in  which  a  gambling  den  flourished.  In  another 
case  a  leader  of  society,  a  woman,  drew  about  two  hun- 
dred per  cent  profit  from  letting  a  building  for  immoral 
purposes.  His  rousing  editorials,  indicting  the  govern- 
ment for  its  lack  of  care  of  the  lesser  offenders,  the 
drunks  and  disorderlies,  the  suspects  who  were  often 
found  innocent,  and  who  had  no  redress  for  the  indig- 
nities and  injuries  they  suffered,  while  the  great  offenders 
went  scot  free,  were  read  with  avidity.  Each  edition  of 
the  paper  was  looked  for  with  dread  by  the  guilty,  and 
many  were  the  threats  uttered  against  him  by  those 
who  found  it  difficult  to  convince  others  of  their  inno- 
cence after  being  published  by  him. 

Morello  had  accepted  Lyndhurst's  offer  and  a  share 
in  the  paper  had  been  duly  made  over  to  him  and  his 
name  appeared  as  editor  of  the  prison  league  portion. 

281 


THE  DRAG-NET 

He  sounded  a  startling  note  and  aroused  attention.  In 
his  deep  study  of  sociological  conditions  in  the  countries 
of  the  Old  World  and  of  the  need  of  human  helpfulness, 
he  had  many  things  to  say,  and  he  said  them  with  an 
earnestness  and  directness  that  were  admirably  adapted 
to  impress  thinking  minds.  What  he  gave  to  the  Drag- 
Net  materially  added  to  its  weight  and  importance. 

Bishop  Woods  seemed  to  take  on  a  new  lease  of  life, 
so  great  was  his  enthusiasm  for  this  work.  He  called  a 
meeting  of  ministers  of  all  churches  at  his  house,  to 
discuss  the  prison  league,  and  they  came — Jew  and 
Gentile,  Catholic  and  Protestant,  orthodox  and  hetero- 
dox, and  there  they  listened  to  the  Bishop  and  Morello 
and  Lyndhurst. 

Morello  told  simply  of  his  terrible  experience  with 
jail  conditions  and  what  had  led  him  to  devote  his  life 
and  his  means  to  try  to  change  the  existing  state  of 
things  for  the  better.  Lyndhurst  told  them  of  the 
world-wide  upheaval  against  the  oppression  of  the  un- 
fortunate and  showed  them  in  glowing  and  scientific 
periods  how  nothing  could  stand  against  the  forces  for 
good,  which  were  always  unselfish  and  which  sought 
organization,  when  set  with  determination  against  the 
forces  for  evil,  which  were  always  selfish  and,  conse- 
quently, always  more  or  less  disorganized ;  and  then  the 
Bishop  rounded  out  what  both  had  said  with  feeling 
and  corroborative  testimony;  and,  explaining  the  object 
of  the  league,  he  called  upon  them  to  enroll  themselves 
members  and  to  promise  henceforth  to  visit  the  prisons, 

282 


THE  MISSING  LINK 

to  study  the  duty  of  those  who  had  fought  the  good 
fight  and  conquered,  toward  those  who  were  still  in  the 
toils  of  sin  and  darkness.  Not  a  clergyman  there  with- 
held his  name,  and  the  next  Sunday  in  every  church  the 
theme  was  the  duty  of  private  individuals  and  the  state 
towards  their  brothers  in  confinement.  So  the  prison 
league  was  launched  and  day  after  day  names  were 
added  to  its  membership  and  the  Honorable  William 
Lyndhurst  was  asked  to  address  the  city  clubs  on  his 
favorite  theme;  and  then  the  names  rolled  in  more  rap- 
idly, until  two  pages  of  the  paper  were  taken  up  by  the 
names  of  the  most  influential  people  of  the  city,  men 
and  women,  endorsing  the  movement  and  promising  to 
help  it  to  a  grand  consummation. 

In  short,  the  city  gradually  awoke  to  its  immense  re- 
sponsibility. It  bade  fair  to  become  fashionable  to 
"visit  those  in  prison"  and  to  know  and  talk  about 
penal  matters. 

Madam  Morello  utterly  ignored  the  partnership  be- 
tween her  daughter's  lover  and  her  son.  She  was  not 
wise  enough  to  see  the  handwriting  on  the  wall — the 
death  sentence  of  Pharisaical  aloofness.  The  goddess 
custom  still  claimed  her  homage  and  she  was  blind 
to  the  crumbling  pedestal  on  which  the  golden  calf 
rested.  Her  mind  was  cast  in  a  mould  and  it  could  be 
shattered,  but  it  could  not  grow.  Twentieth  century 
idealism  was  a  fad  in  the  use  of  words,  nothing  more. 
There  was  no  more  weight  in  those  words  than  in  a 
tinkling  cymbal  to  her.  It  seemed  to  have  become  a 

283 


THE  DRAG-NET 

fashion  in  expression,  as  once  upon  a  time  euphuism 
became  a  style  of  diction.  It  would  pass.  She  must  be 
patient  with  it  and  bear  it,  that  was  all.  She  was 
astonished  that  it  had  seized  upon  William  Lyndhurst, 
but  as  she  was  equally  unsure  of  any  one  else  she  must 
try  to  bear  it.  As  he  grew  older  he  would  doubtless  see 
the  emptiness  of  everything  save  an  aristocracy  and 
wealth.  Those  were  substantial  pillars  upon  which  one 
could  lean,  and  twentieth  century  idealism  but  a  form 
of  words  which  could  avail  no  one. 

Since  Constance's  betrothal  she  was  allowed  a  greater 
measure  of  liberty  and  scarcely  a  day  passed  that  she 
did  not  visit  the  office  of  the  Drag-Net.  There  was 
always  a  question  in  her  eyes  when  she  entered  her 
brother's  private  office.  He  knew  what  it  was  and, 
though  the  office  might  be  thronged  with  men,  a  slight 
shake  of  the  head  would  tell  her,  sadly,  that  there  was 
no  news  of  Dolores  before  she  beat  a  retreat  and  left 
them  to  discuss  the  affairs  of  the  city. 

There  had  been  no  formal  announcement  of  the  en- 
gagement such  as  Madam  Morello  had  intended, 
owing,  she  informed  Mr.  Lyndhurst,  to  the  dreadful 
affliction  that  had  fallen  upon  their  house;  but  their 
nearest  friends  were  told  and  it  soon  spread  and  was 
blazoned  forth  in  the  society  news.  Their  marriage 
was  to  take  place  in  two  months'  time  and  they  were  to 
sail  immediately  for  England.  Madam  Morello  would 
accompany  them. 

A  month  of  this  time  sped  by  slowly  for  Morello, 

284 


THE  MISSING  LINK 

who  was  hoping  against  hope  for  a  word  from  England 
to  say  that  Dolores  was  in  her  old  home  and  safe. 
Her  father  answered  his  letters  in  few  words  and  there 
had  been  no  gleam  of  comfort  in  them. 

He  sat  late  one  night  before  the  glowing  grate,  think- 
ing of  the  happy  evenings  he  had  passed  there  with  his 
dear  love — thinking  of  her  pretty  waving  hair,  her 
shadowy  eyes  and  oval  cheek,  hearing  the  tones  of  her 
voice  as  she  asked  some  question,  and  hearing  his 
answer  to  it.  The  house  seemed  haunted  by  her 
presence. 

It  was  hard  to  bear.  No  matter  what  his  victories  in 
the  material  world,  the  thought  of  his  deserted  house 
always  came  back  to  him  like  a  whiplash,  driving  him 
into  a  misery  it  was  impossible  to  escape.  He  had  been 
a  failure  in  the  realm  of  love.  He  took  the  brooch 
from  his  pocket,  the  old-fashioned  jewel  she  had  prized 
because  it  had  belonged  to  one  who  loved  her,  and 
kissed  it  again  and  again.  Her  lips  had  never  been  his. 
He  had  kissed  her  hand,  her  hair,  two  or  three  times  in 
all,  perhaps,  but  the  sanctuary  of  her  lips  he  had  felt 
that  he  must  wait  for,  must  wait  until  they  were  yielded 
up  to  him,  gladly,  impelled  by  imperious  love  within. 
He  had  been  so  sure  that  this  would  come.  He  laughed 
at  himself  scornfully  now.  What  was  he,  that  he  should 
be  blessed  with  such  divine  permission  ?  Then  he  went 
to  her  room  as  he  did  night  after  night,  when  all  was 
over  for  the  day,  and  flooded  it  with  light  and  took  her 
pretty  white  dresses  down  and  gazed  at  them  with 

285 


THE  DRAG-NET 

moistened  eyes.  In  this  one,  a  filmy  net  with  a  thread 
of  gold  peeping  out  here  and  there  about  the  bodice, 
she  had  looked  like  a  tall  and  slender  white  lily  just 
showing  its  golden  heart.  In  this  one,  a  white  linen, 
she  had  seemed  just  a  gay  good  comrade,  a  being  to 
sweeten  every  hour  of  life  for  a  man;  and  in  this,  a  soft 
wool  with  long  flowing  lines,  he  saw  the  madonna  he 
loved  to  liken  her  to.  He  had  thought  that  some  day 
she  would  in  reality  be  a  mater  purissima,  a  pure 
mother  with  a  babe  upon  her  breast,  the  fairest  picture 
that  our  old  earth  knows ;  a  picture  that  sums  up  all  of 
the  joy  and  religion  of  earth,  all  the  good,  the  true,  the 
noble,  the  self-sacrifice,  the  worship;  a  picture  never 
surpassed  and  never,  while  the  world  swings  upon  its 
appointed  way,  to  be  surpassed. 

"Good-night,  Dolores,  good-night,  my  dear,  dear 
love,"  he  said,  when  his  communing  was  over  and  he 
hung  them  reverently  in  their  places,  and,  standing 
with  bent  head,  he  added,  "  God  succor  you  and  save 
you,  wherever  you  may  be." 

When  he  re-entered  the  living-room  he  still  lingered, 
though  it  was  late.  He  was  very  restless.  Why  should 
he  go  upstairs  and  to  bed  when  it  would  be  to  toss  and 
toss  and  find  no  sleep,  for  thinking  of  Dolores?  He 
set  his  teeth;  reason  came  to  his  aid.  To  bed  he  must 
go  and  sleep  he  must  try  to  get.  There  was  work  to  do. 

He  walked  to  the  end  of  the  room  where  the  wide 
staircase  began  its  gentle  ascent  and  switched  on  the 
light  above.  Then  far  away  in  the  kitchen  the  electric 

286 


THE  MISSING  LINK 

door-bell  rang.  It  was  nearly  midnight  and  some  one 
was  enticing  him  to  the  door.  He  thought  of  Fenleigh 
and  all  his  half -heard  cautioning.  It  was  an  old  trick, 
this,  summoning  a  man  to  the  door  and  shooting  him 
down  then  and  there,  but  while  this  thought  was  run- 
ning through  his  head  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  door. 

Again  the  bell  rang  insistently.  The  words  that  he 
had  used  to  the  Bishop  the  morning  he  had  been  sum- 
moned there  to  be  informed  of  Redding's  supposed 
attempt  upon  him  occurred  to  him. 

"After  all,  my  life  is  not  in  their  hands."     * 

He  straightened  up  and  opened  the  door.  Two  men 
were  seeking  admission. 

"Who  are  you  and  what  do  you  want?"  he  de- 
manded. One  man  stepped  forward  and  asked: 

"Don't  you  remember  me,  Mr.  Morello?  I'm  the 
man  your  committee  helped  with  clothes  an'  money.  I 
done  some  work  here  for  your  wife,  diggin'  round  her 
rosebushes  —  remember  ?" 

Morello  threw  the  door  wide.  "Yes,  I  remember 
you  very  well.  Come  in  and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for 
you  so  late  at  night.  In  another  ten  minutes  I  should 
have  been  in  bed." 

The  men  walked  into  the  living-room.  Morello 
stirred  the  fire  in  the  grate  and  put  some  fresh  fuel  in 
and  then  turned  to  them. 

"I  only  came  to  introduce  Mr.  Swanson,"  resumed 
the  man.  "He  kin  tell  yer  somethin'  yer  want  to 
know,  I  guess,  that  is,  if  yer  really  are  after  the  big 

287 


THE  DRAG-NET 

rascals,   an'  I  guess  yer    are  —  looks  like  it  in   the 
paper." 

Morello  turned  to  Mr.  Swanson  and  that  individual, 
a  young  giant,  bowed  his  head  and  remarked :  "  Yes,  I 
think  I  can  give  you  some  information,  Mr.  Morello." 

"You've  seen  my  paper?"  questioned  Morello. 

"Yes,  I've  seen  several  copies  an'  I  was  darn  glad  to 
see  them,  I  can  tell  you,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  is  the  nature  of  the  information?"  asked 
Morello. 

"Well,"  laughing,  "we've  just  come  from  the  Trail 
End  Mine.  Perhaps  that  will  give  you  some  idea." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Morello,  leaning  forward  eagerly. 
"The  Trail  End  Mine!  I've  seen  some  of  the  men 
who  have  been  employed  there,  but  they  had  no  infor- 
mation to  give  me — have  you  ?  And  can  you  substan- 
tiate what  you  say?" 

"I  have.     I  know  what  I'm  about." 

"Good!     What  are  your  terms?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  terms  ?  "  the  man  rasped  out. 

"Nothing  at  all  offensive.  Most  people  who  have 
valuable  information  to  give  have  some  stipulations  to 
make  regarding  the  use  of  it,  that's  all." 

"No!  Yes — yes.  I've  a  stipulation  to  make.  Use  it! 
Use  it  to  put  two  of  the  slickest  schemers  that  ever 
lived  behind  the  bars,  that's  all." 

"Have  you  had  a  falling  out  with  the  owners?" 
asked  Morello  cautiously. 

"Yes;  so  would  you  have,  I  take  it,  if  what  Perkins  says 

288 


THE  MISSING  LINK 

of  you  is  true.    They  tried  to  bribe  me  when  they  found 
out  I  was  an  expert  miner  and  was  on  to  their  game." 

"  You  have  a  witness  to  this  ? ' 

"You  bet!  Oh,  I'm  no  greenhorn,  if  I  am  down  on 
my  luck  just  now,"  said  the  man,  nodding  decisively. 

"I  see  you  are  not,"  returned  Morello,  smiling.  "Is 
your  witness  here  in  the  city?" 

"No." 

"When  can  we  see  him?" 

"It  isn't  a  him,  it's  a  her!"  answered  Swanson, 
pulling  at  his  chin  nervously,  while  Perkins'  sallow 
features  relaxed  with  a  knowing  smile. 

"I'm  sorry  there's  a  woman  mixed  up  in  this,"  said 
Morello.  "  It's  bad  enough  for  decent  men  to  rout  out 
such  pestilences,  but  for  a  woman  — " 

"Well,  she  ain't;  she  ain't  sorry  to  be  mixed  up  in  it. 
She's  aching  to  her  fingertips  to  tell  what  she  knows, 
and  she  knows  a  whole  lot.  She  ain't  a  doll  woman, 
she  ain't;  don't  believe  she  ever  fainted  in  her  life! 
You  can  bet  on  her,  Mr.  Editor.  She's  got  more  gump- 
tion an'  common  sense  than  three  quarters  of  the  men." 

"Very  well;  get  her  to  the  city  as  soon  as  you  can. 
Will  you  make  a  sworn  statement  here  to-night?" 

"That's  what  we  come  for,  isn't  it,  Perkins?" 

"Yes,  that's  what  we  come  fer!" 

"  I'm  indebted  to  you,  Perkins,  and  to  Swanson,  too," 
responded  Morello.  "Now  just  let  me  send  for  my 
notary  and  a  friend.  Aren't  you  hungry?  it's  twelve 
o'clock." 

289 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Shouldn't  mind  a  bite,"  answered  Perkins. 

"Well,  just  go  out  to  the  pantry  and  see  what  you 
can  find  while  I  phone;  will  you  ?"  Morello  invited. 

The  men  hesitated  to  go  upon  a  foraging  tour  in  a 
stranger's  house  and,  seeing  it,  the  young  man  said: 
"Well,  come  along;  I'll  show  you  the  way,"  and  took 
them  to  the  kitchen  where  he  set  before  them  an  abun- 
dance of  cold  food.  "Now  fill  up  while  I  go  and 
phone,"  he  said  and  left  them. 

Fenleigh  and  the  notary  were  called  up  and  ordered 
out  to  the  bungalow  at  top  speed ;  but  it  was  more  than 
half  an  hour  before  the  sound  of  their  wheels  was  heard 
upon  the  drive.  Morello  met  them  eagerly.  He  had 
spent  most  of  the  waiting  time  in  listening  to  Swanson's 
story  of  his  connection  with  the  Trail  End  Mine.  Per- 
kins cut  no  figure  in  it.  He  had  made  his  way  out  to 
the  desert  to  get  rid  of  his  cough  and  had  taken  several 
copies  of  the  Drag-Net  with  him.  There,  falling  in 
with  Swanson,  he  had  loaned  them  to  him  to  read, 
explaining  the  work  they  designed  to  do.  To  the 
miner  they  had  been  as  guideposts.  To  get  to  the 
editor  of  that  paper  became  his  sole  wish,  and  so  they 
had  come. 

Morello  stood  in  the  open  door  as  the  men  drove 
up. 

"What  in  Heaven's  name,"  began  the  notary. 

"  Fenleigh,"  exclaimed  Morello,  triumphantly,  "  we've 
got  the  missing  link.  What  we  couldn't  understand  is 
all  clear  now;  just  come  and  listen  to  this  man's  story; 

290 


oh,  we're  mere  infants,  when  it  comes  to  investigating 
roguery." 

"Thank  God  we  are!"  said  the  old  man  fervently,  as 
he  climbed  the  steps  to  the  porch. 

They  went  in  and  the  story  was  begun  again.  Mo- 
rello  took  it  down  and  it  was  duly  sworn  to.  Then 
came  the  question  of  the  disposition  of  the  men. 

"  They  must  stay  here,"  said  Fenleigh.  "Just  let  them 
stay  here  and  be  gardeners  until  they  are  wanted." 

"  I  reckoned  on  going  back  to  get  the  girl,"  demurred 
Swanson.  "  I've  got  money  enough  here,"  touching  his 
belt. 

"No,  Swanson.  If  you  are  anxious,  as  you  say  you 
are,  to  help  us  clear  out  these  rotten  officials,  you  must 
run  no  risks,"  said  Morello,  adding,  "Fenleigh,  you 
are  the  one  to  go  for  the,  the  — " 

"Young  lady,"  supplied  Swanson. 

"But  I  can't  go!"  exclaimed  the  old  man  with  per- 
turbation on  his  face.  "I  can't  leave  the  —  the  office 
just  now." 

Morello 's  face  softened.  He  knew  the  reason  of  this 
reluctance. 

"Oh  yes,  you  can;  it  will  take  but  three  days.  I  can 
trust  none  so  well  as  you ;  you  must  go.  Swanson  will 
write  a  letter  for  you  to  take;  that  will  be  necessary." 

"Yes,  that  will  be  necessary,"  repeated  Swanson. 

"Well,  go  home  now  and  get  a  couple  of  hours'  sleep 
if  you  can.  Start  on  the  eight  o'clock  train.  I'll  be 
there  with  the  letter."  He  arose  jubilantly. 

291 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"We've  got  them!  We've  got  them!"  he  cried,  vic- 
tory in  his  face  and  manner. 

"If  you  can  sustain  this,"  said  the  notary  blandly, 
"I  should  say  you  have  got  them." 

"Every  word's  true  and  can  be  proved!"  affirmed 
Swanson  emphatically. 

Morello  went  down  the  steps  with  them. 

"Fenleigh,"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  to  the  old  man 
who  was  in  a  daze  of  discontent,  "  I'll  take  precautions; 
nothing  will  happen  to  me.  You  alone  can  I  depend 
upon  to  do  all  that  is  needed  there.  You  must  inves- 
tigate the  mine.  They  don't  know  you  there,  and  you 
must  bring  back  that  young  woman.  Then  we'll  spring 
the  charges.  We've  got  them,  Fenleigh!" 

"Ah,  yes,  but  I  hope  they  won't  get  you,  that's  all," 
was  the  anxious  reply. 


292 


CHAPTER  XXX 

PERKINS 

"CHUMMIE,  won't  you  come  home  even  to  see  my 
pretty  dresses?"  asked  Constance,  finding  her  brother 
alone  early  on  the  third  day  of  Fenleigh's  absence. 
"  I'm  on  a  shopping  expedition  now.  I'm  supposed,  at 
this  very  moment,  to  be  deciding  between  Irish  crochet 
lace  and  rose  point,  and  here  am  I  flirting  with  you, 
Chummie  dear." 

There  was  a  beautiful  tenderness  in  the  way  she 
pressed  her  soft  cheek  against  his  dark  hair  as  she 
stooped  maternally  over  him. 

He  looked  up  at  her  with  a  brave,  bright  expression 
and,  taking  her  arm,  he  pulled  her  round  his  chair, 
seating  her  upon  his  lap.  Then  she  buried  her  face  in 
his  neck  and  kissed  him  again  and  again. 

He  made  a  great  show  of  ecstasy.  "Whew!  the 
Honorable  William  is  to  be  envied,"  he  said  gaily. 

"But  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  going  and  leaving  you 
here  all  alone  with  only  the  Bishop  and  old  Fenleigh  to 
love  you,"  she  said  with  a  break  in  her  voice. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  closed  his  eyes  and  drew  a 
deep  breath  as  he  pressed  her  closer  to  his  breast. 

"Shall  you  let  Mother  go  without  making  up,  pre- 
cious?" she  asked,  looking  at  him  anxiously. 

293 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"We  can't  foresee  events,  dear.  Mother  has  injured 
my  wife  so  deeply,  I  don't  know  how  I  can  get  to  feeling 
kindly  toward  her  again  and  I  can't  pretend!" 

"I  know,  I  know  you  can't  pretend,"  she  returned, 
patting  his  hand  with  her  plump  little  one.  "  Will  says 
you're  the  most  straightforward  fellow  he  ever  met. 
He  says  there's  no  more  compromise  in  you  than  in  a 
streak  of  lightning.  He's  awfully  full  of  admiration 
for  you,  Chummie,  and  it  makes  me  love  him  all  the 
more." 

He  looked  at  her  affectionately  and  smiled.  "  Mother, 
I  suppose,  is  very  much  occupied  with  your  finery  now, 
isn't  she?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  naturally;  so  am  I.  My  gowns  are  dreams, 
just  dreams;  and  you'll  miss  something  if  you  don't 
come  to  see  them,  you  bad  boy!" 

He  skipped  the  subject  of  gowns  and  asked : 

"  Does  she  ever  mention  the  disreputable  part  of  the 
family?" 

Constance  could  not  pretend,  either;  so,  much  as  she 
would  have  liked  to  give  an  affirmative  answer,  she 
felt  obliged  not  to. 

"I  suppose  she  feels  what  she's  done  too  deeply  to 
talk  about  it,  Chummie." 

He  understood.  "Well,  the  ocean  will  soon  lie  be- 
tween us  and  then  she  can  hold  up  her  head  again. 
Poor  woman,"  he  said,  thinking  of  her  great  limita- 
tions. 

Constance  gave  him  another  hug  and  then  sprang 

204 


PERKINS 

from  his  lap.  "I  must  run  now,  you  darling,"  she 
said.  "  Shall  it  be  the  Irish  crochet  or  the  point  ?" 

"Let's  flop  a  nickel,"  he  answered  boyishly. 

"Just  the  thing,  just  the  thing!"  she  laughed.  "A 
flopped  nickel  is  greater  than  the  Delphic  oracle,  for 
what  it  says  always  comes  true." 

He  took  one  from  his  pocket  and  looked  at  her. 

"Heads,  Irish,"  she  said,  answering  his  look. 

"So  be  it,"  he  returned  and  gave  his  schoolboy  spin 
to  the  coin.  It  went  up  almost  to  the  ceiling  and  then 
to  the  floor  and  rolled  about  until  it  found  a  resting 
place  beneath  a  leather  arm-chair.  The  chair  was 
wheeled  away  and  both  stooped  over  to  read  the 
decision. 

"The  Oirish  have  it,"  she  said,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  I'm  glad.  I  wanted  it  any  way,  but  it's  nice  to  have  a 
little  nickel  oracle  to  decide.  Why  don't  you  decide 
things  that  way,  Prentiss?" 

"Do  you  mean  great  things,  Connie?" 

"Oh  no,  you  could  not,  I  suppose,  decide  great 
things  that  way,  and  you  and  Will  have  so  many 
great  things  to  decide.  I  don't.  I  never  have  anything 
great  to  decide;  girls  never  seem  to  have.  We're  just 
pretty  little  creatures  made  to  love  and  to  be  loved, 
that's  all.  We're  not  a  bit  great,  are  we,  Chummie?" 

She  looked  quite  disconsolately  at  him  as  though 
afraid  that  he  would  see  the  thing  that  had  all  at  once 
become  so  plain  to  her;  but  hoping  that  he  could  con- 
scientiously contradict  it,  as  he  proceeded  to  do. 

295 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Great?"  he  asked,  taking  her  flushed  cheeks  be- 
tween his  hands.  "  There's  nothing  in  the  world  greater 
than  a  woman.  Dear,"  his  voice  became  tense  with 
his  emotion,  "dear,  when  you  have  a  babe  nestling  in 
your  arms  and  calling  you  mother,  you  will  be  greater 
and  will  have  done  a  greater  thing  than  any  man  that 
ever  lived." 

She  gasped  for  a  moment,  gazing  with  frightened 
eyes  at  his  despairing  face,  a  lovely  color  suffusing  her 
features  from  brow  to  white  throat.  Then  as  he  re- 
leased her,  she  pressed  her  cheek  against  his  arm  and 
replied : 

"Yes,  I  think  so,  I  think  so,  Prentiss."  Then  she 
went  out  quietly,  as  though  a  beautiful  dignity  had 
suddenly  fallen  upon  her  young  life. 

As  the  door  closed  he  cowered  down  in  his  chair  for 
a  moment,  while  radiant  visions  thronged  about  him, 
visions  of  the  joy,  the  worship,  the  glory  of  family  life 
and  family  love;  and  the  center  of  every  vision  was 
Dolores,  sweet,  gentle,  tender  Dolores,  his  life,  his  love. 

It  was  only  for  a  fragment  of  time  that  he  gave  way 
to  it;  then  he  lifted  his  head  and,  with  an  effort  of  the  will, 
everything  was  shut  away  but  the  business  in  hand. 

Presently  Mrs.  Sanford  came  in  to  report  to  him  that 
at  last  they  were  allowed  to  place  sewing  machines  in 
both  jails  and  had  obtained  permission  to  teach  sewing 
on  two  days  of  the  week;  and  the  women  were  to  be 
allowed  to  take  orders  for  sewing,  all  to  be  subject  to 
the  orders  of  the  matrons. 

296 


PERKINS 

"It's  a  great  concession,"  she  said  with  animation. 
"  I've  been  trying  so  long  to  make  them  see  that  one  of 
the  best  ways  to  help  reform  them  is  to  give  them  em- 
ployment and  to  let  them  earn  a  little  something  for 
themselves,  and  it  never  seemed  to  have  any  effect  at 
all.  The  Drag-Net  is  changing  the  complexion  of 
matters. " 

"And  it  will  change  them  more,"  the  young  editor 
answered.  "I  can  say  nothing  as  yet,  but  if  I'm  not 
greatly  mistaken,  the  storm  will  break  in  the  next  issue, 
and  for  a  time  there'll  be  a  terrible  fury  extant;  then  I 
hope  the  air  will  become  clear  and  pure  again." 

"  You  had  a  great  work  to  do,  Mr.  Morello,  a  great 
work,  and  I  congratulate  you,"  she  replied,  her  earnest 
face  full  of  interest  and  approval. 

"  Yes,  and  when  it  is  done  the  paper  may  go.  It  is 
but  a  means  to  an  end.  I  shall  be  glad  to  beat  up  our 
cannon  into  plowshares  and  our  spears  into  pruning 
hooks,"  he  said,  going  to  open  the  door  for  her. 

"I  have  an  idea  about  the  league,"  she  said  hesitat- 
ingly, adding,  "but  don't  let  me  interfere  too  much, 
please.  Let  me  know  when  to  stop,  won't  you  ?" 

"Just  let  me  have  your  idea,"  he  said.  "But  come 
back  and  sit  down  and  — 

"No,  no,  that  isn't  necessary.  It's  just  this.  We 
have  a  league  now,  but  we've  no  adequate  accommoda- 
tions for  prisoners.  In  short,  that  model  prison  pub- 
lished on  your  first  page  ought  to  become  materialized. 
They  won't  appropriate  funds  and  the  excuse  is  that 

297 


THE  DRAG-NET 

there  are  not  enough  funds  for  the  schools  —  as  though 
the  prison  shouldn't  be  made  the  best  equipped  school 
in  the  land.  Now  what  better  work  can  the  league  do 
than  start  a  fund  for  a  new  prison  after  your  model  plan  ? 
We  might  only  have  to  raise  part  of  the  fund.  I  hope 
you  will  educate  the  public  mind  up  to  the  crying  need 
for  a  remedial,  industrial  institution,  and  that  we  can 
prevail  upon  the  powers  that  be  to  furnish  part  of  the 
money  at  least." 

"  Mrs.  Sanford,  will  you  take  that  up  and  address  the 
league  upon  that  subject?"  asked  Morello  eagerly. 
"It's  a  splendid  idea.  Just  go  and  see  the  Bishop 
about  it,  I  beg  of  you.  Go  to-day  before  the  matter 
grows  cold  in  your  mind.  You  would  convince  any 
one!" 

The  young  matron  laughed.  "I  hoped  you  would 
suggest  that,"  she  said.  "I  wanted  to  go  to  some  one 
to  talk  it  out." 

"Come  and  phone  to  the  Bishop  and  make  an  ap- 
pointment," he  urged;  so  she  went  back  to  his  desk  and 
made  the  appointment  with  the  Bishop  and  then  took 
leave  of  him,  to  go  upon  her  beautiful  healing,  love- 
radiating  way. 

Then  Lyndhurst  came  in  and  some  of  the  reporters 
and  they  had  a  secret  session. 

While  this  was  going  on  there  came  a  wire  from 
Fenleigh.  It  ran: 

"  Return  Saturday.  Obstacles.  Witness  O.K.  Hang 
on  to  S." 

£98 


PERKINS 

"They've  probably  traced  Swanson  to  the  city," 
said  Morello. 

"You  haven't  had  him  waiting  in  the  bungalow 
grounds,  have  you?"  asked  Lyndhurst,  with  conster- 
nation. 

"No,  I  thought  better  of  that  plan.  So  far  as  I 
know,  he  hasn't  left  the  house  since  he  first  set  foot 
inside,"  replied  Morello.  "I  set  Perkins  to  work  outside 
and  told  him  to  act  as  sentinel.  I  feel  sure  he's  all 
right.  Up  to  this  morning  no  one  had  been  prying  that 
we  know  of." 

"Ah,  but  since  then  some  one  has  been  spying,"  said 
one  of  the  reporters  quickly. 

All  eyes  were  turned  in  his  direction. 

"Speak  out!"  commanded  Morello. 

"In  returning  from  my  assignment,"  he  began,  "I 
had  to  pass  near  the  bungalow,  Mr.  Morello,  and  I 
thought  I'd  make  a  short  call  to  see  how  the  land  lay 
and  report  to  you,  for  the  time  is  short  now,  and  any 
minute  something  may  happen.  Perkins  was  not  to  be 
found  either  in  the  grounds  or  house." 

"Did  you  see  Swanson,"  demanded  Lyndhurst. 

"Yes,  and  he  was  cursing  like  a  demon.  He  had 
seen  Perkins  go  off  with  a  man  in  a  car.  Swanson,  I 
think,  is  honest  enough,  but  Perkins  — " 

"Perkins  is  honest,  too,  I'll  wager,"  said  Morello. 
"It's  merely  a  matter  of  poor  judgment,  I  think.  He 
shouldn't  have  gone,  though.  I'll  call  Swanson  up." 

This  he  did  and  they  heard  some  lurid  denunciations, 

299 


THE  DRAG-NET 

coupled  with  the  information  that  Perkins  had  not  yet 
returned. 

"They're  on  to  Fenleigh's  trip  to  the  mine  and  it 
means  dirty  work,"  said  another  reporter  warmly. 
"Those  men  are  not  a  lot  of  sheep  to  be  rounded  up 
and  driven  to  the  shambles.  They  are  desperate 
rogues  at  bay." 

"I  think  you,  Cooper,  and  Meyer  can  get  ready  to 
go  out  to  the  bungalow  to  remain  until  I  get  home  for 
the  night,"  said  Morello,  turning  to  the  young  men. 

"Go  armed,"  supplemented  Lyndhurst. 

"They  will  find  arms  in  the  house.  Swanson  has 
plenty,  I  discovered,"  said  Morello  quietly. 

"That  will  do,  then." 

The  young  men  went  out  and  the  others  continued 
perfecting  their  plans. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  Morello  tried  to  get  them  on 
the  phone  to  find  out  if  Perkins  had  returned,  but  there 
was  no  reply.  He  tried  again  and  again  with  the  same 
result  and  then,  giving  up  the  automatic,  he  applied  to 
central,  who  also  could  get  no  reply.  Just  then  Lynd- 
hurst entered. 

"They  have  tampered  with  the  phone,"  Morello  re- 
marked in  a  matter  of  fact  voice.  "At  all  events  we 
can't  get  the  house." 

Lyndhurst  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  dismay. 

"I'd  go  out  immediately,  but  I've  to  meet  our 
friends,  the  enemy,  this  evening,"  said  Morello. 

"  I'll  go.    I  can  be  spared,  and  I'll  be  back  to  report 

300 


PERKINS 

as  soon  as  possible,"  the  young  Englishman  responded, 
throwing  himself  into  the  necessity  with  characteristic 
vigor. 

"Thanks,  Lyndhurst.  You'll  find  me  here  until 
eight  o'clock." 

There  was  much  to  do.  Morello  felt  the  absence  of 
Fenleigh,  who  was  so  thorough-going  and  so  clear- 
seeing.  The  young  men  that  he  employed  were  splen- 
did young  fellows  and  were  heart  and  soul  with  him  in 
this  warfare  against  bribery  and  graft  and  the  shame- 
less immunity  with  which  vice  held  up  her  hydra  head 
in  the  city,  but  they  hadn't  the  judgment  that  years  had 
brought  to  Fenleigh 's  mind.  He  thought  with  relief 
that  the  next  day  would  see  the  old  man  again  at  his 
post,  and  he  resolved  not  to  be  backward  in  telling  him 
how  he  had  been  needed.  How  he  wished  this  battle 
were  over.  He  hated  warfare,  yet  who  would  say  it  was 
not  essential  where  things  had  reached  such  a  pass? 
Who  would  say  that  the  festering  sore  should  not  be 
cleansed,  the  infectious  disease  destroyed,  children 
saved,  maidens  rescued,  the  simple  and  unsophisticated 
delivered  from  the  vultures  who  would  devour  them? 
Who  would  say  it? 

At  eight  o'clock  Lyndhurst  returned.  Things  had 
not  changed  at  the  bungalow. 

"The  reporters  and  Swanson  are  holding  the  fort, 
but  Perkins  is  conspicuously  absent,"  he  reported, 
"and  the  phone  is  dead." 

"I've  been  thinking,  Lyndhurst,  that  phones  often 

301 


THE  DRAG-NET 

get  out  of  order  and  that  it  was  hasty  judgment  that 
made  me  say  the  wire  had  been  tampered  with,  "said 
Morello  with  conviction. 

"If  Perkins  hadn't  vanished  I  should  say  the  same," 
returned  Lyndhurst.  "Taken  in  connection  with  that 
it  seems  probable  that  it  has  been  tampered  with  and 
that  he  has  been  tampered  with,  too.  I'm  glad,  old 
man,  that  I  arrived  when  I  did  to  help  you  through 
with  this  muddle." 

"  It  was  fortunate,"  returned  Morello,  and  they  went 
out  together,  one  to  an  appointed  meeting,  the  other  to 
the  society  of  his  fiancee. 


302 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  No  MAN" 

THE  meeting  that  Morello  attended  was  stormy. 
The  men  found  that  Lyndhurst  was  right  when  he  said 
that  the  young  editor  was  as  uncompromising  as  a  flash 
of  lightning.  He  had  but  one  order  for  them,  a  total 
change  in  occupation  and  motive.  He  had  entered  into 
the  business  of  dragging  the  city  with  his  net  for  the  big 
rascals  and  law-breakers.  He  had  the  best  element  of 
the  place  with  him.  His  funds  were  plenty  and  when 
his  own  were  gone,  if  they  did  go,  which  he  had  no 
reason  to  believe,  he  knew  where  to  look  for  another 
supply.  They  might  begin  their  lawsuits,  they  might 
hamper  him  in  any  way  they  chose,  but  there  could  be 
but  one  outcome,  failure  for  them,  victory  for  good 
citizenship.  Nothing  could  stop  the  force  that  he  had 
set  going.  Even  if  his  life  were  forfeit,  the  renovation 
would  go  on — aye,  go  on  faster  and  harder  than  ever. 

"Never  think,"  he  concluded,  standing  there  in  his 
intense  earnestness,  his  eyes  lighted  by  the  altar  fires 
within  his  soul,  his  face  pale,  his  voice  clear  and  ring- 
ing, "  Never  think  that  because  my  paper  is  small  and 
new  that  it  is  a  slight  thing.  Don't  make  the  mistake 
of  thinking  a  bulky  body  necessary  to  a  great  power. 
I  don't  know  what  you  believe  and  I  don't  care  what 

303 


THE  DRAG-NET 

you  believe,  but  I  am  persuaded  of  this :  that  that  bit  of 
paper  is  evidence,  but  the  tiniest  bit  of  evidence,  per- 
haps, but  unmistakable,  nevertheless,  of  an  unseen 
power,  so  irresistible,  so  incorruptible,  so  almighty, 
that  you  yourselves  would  be  dumb  with  amazement, 
could  you  know  the  hundredth  part  of  it.  I  feel  behind 
me  the  moral  universe.  It  is  using  me.  I  could  have 
no  greater  honor.  My  fortune  and  my  life  belong  to  it 
and  always  will  so  long  as  I  have  a  cent  and  draw  breath. 
A  pen  is  a  small  utensil,  but  it  can  convey  a  vast  fortune 
from  one  individual  to  another.  I  am  like  the  little  pen. 
I  am  conveying  a  vast  fortune  to  the  city,  a  fortune  of 
honesty,  cleanliness  and  justice  from  the  infinite  re- 
sources of  the  Creator.  Now,  do  what  you  will.  I've 
met  you.  I've  talked  with  you.  I've  given  you  time. 
I  ask  a  great  deal,  I  know.  It  will  mean  a  money  loss 
to  you.  What  of  that  ?  Why  are  you,  too,  not  here  by 
my  side,  standing  up  for  the  laws  of  God  and  the  land, 
why  are  you  not?  I  ask  again,  is  there  any  legitimate 
reason  why  you  are  not  ?  It's  the  only  safe  spot  in  the 
world." 

He  had  been  carried  away  by  his  surging  thoughts 
and  his  high  desires,  and  the  men  stirred  uneasily  under 
his  arraignment.  They  began  again  their  arguments 
which  were  not  even  specious  to  the  trained  mind.  He 
made  a  gesture  of  dissent. 

"I  must  go  now,  it  is  late,  and  you  have  my  last 
word,"  he  said,  and  passed  out  of  the  door  in  the  midst 
of  a  portentous  silence. 

304 


"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN" 

He  made  his  way  to  a  car,  keeping,  as  he  had  prom- 
ised Fenleigh,  always  in  the  lightest  portions.  He  was 
very  tired  and  longed  for  the  restfulness  of  the  bungalow. 
He  hoped  the  men  there  would  be  abed  and  that  he 
could  let  himself  in  with  his  latchkey  and  get  to  his 
room  unobserved. 

He  had  had  too  many  of  these  battles  in  the  short 
time  that  he  had  headed  the  aggressive  forces  for  the 
matter  to  take  entire  possession  of  his  brain.  Young 
as  he  was  he  had  already  learned  the  recuperative 
effect  of  putting  one  subject  completely  aside  when  he 
took  up  another;  so  now  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
bungalow  he  mentally  turned  with  a  sigh  of  relief  to  the 
inestimable  luxury  of  his  pictures  of  Dolores,  moving 
about  the  rooms  in  her  sweet  ministrations  or,  like  a 
veritable  Saint  Cecilia,  invoking  angel  melodies  with 
her  inspired  touch  upon  the  instrument. 

Menacing  clouds  were  scudding  across  the  sky  as  he 
left  the  car,  covering  now  and  then  a  half  moon,  and  a 
fresh  east  wind  had  sprung  up.  There  will  be  rain  soon, 
he  told  himself,  pulling  up  his  coat  collar  about  his 
neck  and  breaking  into  his  usual  eager  stride.  Then 
his  thoughts  flew  for  a  moment  to  Fenleigh  and  his  face 
softened  as  he  thought  tenderly  of  the  old  man's  fatherly 
concern  for  him.  He  could  almost  see  the  gladness 
leap  into  the  furrowed  face  as  those  kindly  eyes  beheld 
him,  as  they  would  once  again  to-morrow,  safe  and 
sound.  Perhaps,  then,  seeing  that  his  suspicions  were 
unfounded — for  surely  the  enemy  had  had  opportunity 

305 


THE  DRAG-NET 

enough  to  do  him  harm — he  could  be  persuaded  to  relax 
his  watchfulness  and  spend  more  hours  with  his  family. 
He  drew  near  the  second  block;  in  a  few  minutes 
more  he  would  be  in  the  bungalow,  the  place  made 
sacred  by  his  wife's  short  stay  there.  Again  the  idea  of 
her  seized  him.  How  beautiful  she  had  looked  that 
evening  when  he  had  recited  to  her  his  favorite  poem, 
the  night  they  had  watched  the  lavender  and  rose  fold- 
ing their  filmy  beauty  over  the  grand  old  mountains  and 
the  sea.  She,  too,  had  liked  the  poem.  He  found  him- 
self repeating  the  last  verse,  the  verse  that  summed 
up  the  changes  that  love  made  in  one's  life.  His  steps 
lagged  and  his  lips  moved  gently  as  he  whispered : 

"  But  yesterday  a  desert  world ; 
To-day  a  realm  of  bliss  and  ecstasy. 
Oh,  can  it  be  the  works  of  God  above 
Are  rightly  seen  but  through  the  eyes  of  love  ? 
All  things  are  changed,  my  very  soul's  unbound. 
My  eyes  hath  colors  new,  my  ears  new  sound. 
Life  swings  its  perfume  censer  wide  and  free, 
And  sorrow  is  no  more  —  thou  lovest  me." 

Without  knowing  it  he  had  stopped  for  a  moment,  so 
intent  were  his  thoughts  upon  her  face  that  night  as  he 
had  repeated  this  verse  to  her.  Then  suddenly,  like  a 
man  awakening  from  a  heavenly  dream,  he  realized 
that  he  had  stopped;  and,  with  a  great  sigh,  he  plunged 
into  the  dense  shadows  of  the  second  block.  From 
there  on  clumps  of  trees  and  clusters  of  bushes  lined 

306 


"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN" 

the  way  to  his  very  door.  No  better  place  for  an  am- 
bush could  be  found,  but  he  had  walked  that  road 
night  after  night  and  had  been  unmolested,  and  habit 
had  invested  him  with  a  feeling  of  safety.  So  as  he 
entered  the  darkness  no  fear  beset  him,  only  an  almost 
unendurable  yearning  for  Dolores. 

As  he  passed  on,  two  figures  suddenly  appeared  upon 
the  path  behind  him;  one  a  woman  but  a  step  from 
him,  the  other  a  man  with  a  revolver  which  he  raised 
and  which  the  woman  saw.  With  a  heart-rending  cry 
she  threw  herself  upon  Morello  and  as  she  did  so  there 
was  a  shot  and  she  sank  unconscious  to  the  ground 
before  Morello  could  turn  and  save  her. 

She  had  fallen  upon  her  face  and  Morello,  kneeling 
by  her  side,  was  trying  to  do  something,  he  knew  not 
what.  He  must  turn  her  over,  he  thought,  a  sweat  of 
agony  and  horror  pouring  from  his  forehead.  He  was 
afraid,  too,  to  stir  her  lest  he  injure  her  by  doing  it. 
Dark  as  it  was,  he  understood  the  case.  The  woman 
had  received  the  shot  intended  for  him. 

He  called  aloud  for  help,  but  there  was  no  house 
nearer  than  his  own  and  all  there  were  locked  in  sleep's 
unconsciousness.  But  help  was  coming.  A  great  tour- 
ing car  with  its  streaming  lights  was  hastily  approach- 
ing. He  placed  himself  in  its  path  and  it  came  to  a 
stop.  Morello 's  face  relaxed  a  little  as  he  recognized 
its  occupants. 

"Judge  Sanford,  thank  God,  thank  God!"  he 
gasped ;  and  the  judge  was  out  in  a  moment,  followed 

307 


THE  DRAG-NET 

by  Mrs.  Sanford,  who  ran  to  the  huddled  form  on  the 
walk. 

The  judge  proceeded  to  take  one  of  the  lamps  from 
the  machine,  Morello  hastily  explaining  what  had 
taken  place. 

"It  happened  but  this  moment!  I  heard  a  dreadful 
cry,  felt  the  weight  of  a  body  against  me,  heard  a  shot, 
and  this  poor  woman  fell!" 

The  Judge  had  the  lamp  in  his  hand  now  and  he 
turned  the  light  upon  Morello 's  face,  which  was  full  of 
horror. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked,  as  they  strode  to  the  pros- 
trate form. 

"I've  no  idea,  Judge,  but  of  course  the  shot  was 
meant  for  me.  I'm  not  surprised  at  that!" 

"She's  not  dead,"  said  Mrs.  Sanford  as  they  came 
up;  "her  heart  is  beating." 

"Thank  God,"  said  Morello.  "We  must  turn  her 
over  and  carry  her  to  the  bungalow  and  phone  for  a 
doctor  —  but  heavens!  why  didn't  I  know!  our  phone 
has  been  tampered  with." 

"Then  it's  a  plot!  Gently  there,  Morello,  be  careful; 
we  must  move  her  gently,"  cautioned  the  Judge. 

As  they  lifted  her  her  heavy  black  veil  fell  over  her 
face  and  Mrs.  Sanford  drew  it  aside.  Then  the  Judge 
took  up  the  lamp  again  and  threw  its  light  upon  her 
face. 

An  agonized  cry  broke  from  Morello 's  lips  as  he  saw 
that  deathlike  face.  He  flung  himself  beside  her,  mad 

308 


"GREATER  LOVE  HATH  NO  MAN" 

with  grief,  but  calling  her  name,  her  loved  name,  over 
and  over  again. 

"Dolores,  my  Dolores,  my  wife,  my  darling  wife! 
O  God,  O  God,  she  has  given  her  life  for  me!"  He 
was  quite  insane  with  the  anguish  of  this  awful  resto- 
ration. 

It  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Sanford  and  she  sobbed 
aloud,  and  the  Judge  could  not  speak  at  all  for  a  mo- 
ment; then,  knowing  that  he  was  the  one  to  act  and 
that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  he  appealed  to  Morello. 

"Every  moment  counts  now,  Morello,"  he  said  com- 
mandingly,  in  his  effort  to  steady  his  voice.  "There's 
only  one  thing  to  do.  We  must  take  her  where  we  can 
get  doctors.  We'll  lift  her  into  the  car  and  you  can 
hold  her  and  I'll  get  help  soon.  Cheer  up,  boy;  she 
may  not  be  dangerously  hurt." 

"Her  own  room  is  waiting  in  the  bungalow  but  a 
block  away,"  began  Morello  imploringly.  But  the 
Judge  was  firm.  "We  must  get  her  to  the  Southern 
Hospital,  man,"  he  said.  "That  isn't  very  far  and 
there  are  always  doctors  there.  We  must  save  time. 
Sentiment  isn't  in  place  now.  Come,  help  me  lift  her." 

Then  the  two  men  lifted  the  insensible  form  with  the 
tenderness  of  mothers  and  Morello  held  her  in  his  arms, 
and  Mrs.  Sanford  sat  with  her  husband,  who  guided 
the  machine  carefully  until  they  reached  an  asphalt 
street,  where  they  sped  to  the  Southern  Hospital. 


309 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  SLENDER  THREAD  OF  LIFE 

THE  next  day  Fenleigh  returned  and  went  straight  to 
the  office.  There  he  learned  what  had  happened. 

"Mr.  Lyndhurst,.  why  didn't  you  look  after  him?" 
he  said  reproachfully,  turning  to  the  young  Englishman, 
who  had  charge  of  the  office. 

"  Morello's  no  baby  in  leading  strings,  Fenleigh,  and 
you  see, — well,  he  was  taken  care  of,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  at  what  expense,  at  what  expense!"  groaned 
the  old  man. 

"Truly,  at  what  expense!"  repeated  Lyndhurst, 
bowing  his  head  at  the  weight  of  the  problem. 

"  Is  she  living  still  ?     Will  she  live  ?" 

"The  physicians  are  non-committal.  It  will  take 
time  to  discover  that." 

Fenleigh  put  his  head  upon  his  arms  as  they  rested 
upon  the  table  and  neither  spoke  for  awhile;  then 
Lyndhurst  remarked: 

"  We  must  relieve  him  of  all  anxiety  here  now,  Fen- 
leigh. He  can  depend  on  us,  hey?" 

"Yes." 

"Tell  me  why  you  were  delayed." 

"I  wanted  another  witness  and  I  had  to  go  a  long 
distance  after  him,"  answered  the  old  man.  "They 

310 


THE  SLENDER  THREAD  OF  LIFE 

had  paid  him  off  and  discharged  him  before  I  got 
there." 

"And  are  things  as  we  thought?" 

"Worse  —  the  boldest  rascality  I  ever  saw." 

"So  our  witnesses  are  all  here  now,  are  they?" 

"Yes,  I  took  the  man  and  the  young  woman  to  my 
house." 

"That's  a  good  precaution,  and  we  have  Swanson 
and  the  one  who  peached." 

Suddenly  Fenleigh  stood  up,  his  veins  knotting  upon 
his  forehead,  his  eyes  revengeful. 

"  What  has  become  of  Redding  ?  I  was  so  overcome 
I  forgot  for  the  minute.  What  has  become  of  him?" 
he  cried  sharply. 

"Perkins  got  him,  was  not  ten  yards  behind  him, 
saw  him  fire  and  got  the  drop  on  him  as  he  threw  his 
weapon  away,  but  — " 

"But  what?"  The  question  popped  out  like  shot 
out  of  a  gun;  and  the  old  man,  suspecting  some  un- 
pleasant revelation,  brought  a  hard  fist  against  his 
open  palm. 

"He  was  released  on  a  small  bail,  the  only  witness 
being  a  former  offender,  you  know." 

"Damn!"  exclaimed  Fenleigh  excitedly.  "Yes,  a 
thousand  damns!  It's  all  over  then.  It's  Perkins' 
word  against  his.  I  wonder  they  held  him  at  all!" 

"They  wouldn't  have  held  him  if  there  had  been  no 
Drag-Net.  They  are  taking  precautions  now!"  replied 
Lyndhurst. 

311 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Fenleigh  was  the  picture  of  misery.  To  get  Redding 
into  the  law's  grip  was  the  only  thing  that  could  be 
done  to  establish  Morello's  safety.  Then,  too,  there 
was  a  mighty  desire  in  his  heart  to  mete  out  to  Redding 
the  same  suffering  to  which  he  had  condemned  the 
helpless  Dolores.  There  was  no  thought  in  his  mind 
of  poetic  justice,  no  thought  of  anything  artistic  or  pic- 
turesque; simply  the  elemental  thought  of  a  stroke 
given  for  a  stroke  received,  but  for  safety,  for  safety — 
that  right  should  prevail,  that  a  malevolent  and  pes- 
tiferous nature  should  be  suppressed. 

He  sank  down  again,  utterly  dejected,  a  condition 
which  his  late  loss  of  sleep  materially  aided.  Then  the 
door  opened  and  Perkins  appeared,  handing  a  letter  to 
Lyndhurst.  The  sight  of  him  angered  Fenleigh.  He 
sprang  up  and  shook  his  fist  in  the  man's  face. 

"YOU — you —  "  he  began  chokingly,  but  Perkins 
stepped  aside  and  waved  Fenleigh 's  belligerent  move- 
ments aside. 

"See  here  now,  hold  yer  horses,  will  yer,"  he  said 
mildly. 

"Didn't  I  leave  you  in  charge?  didn't  I  instruct  you 
to  be  on  the  lookout  ?  and  after  all  that  he  did  for  you, 
too,  you  cur,  you  — " 

"You're  a  fool,  ain't  you  now,  jedging  a  man  'fore 
you've  heared  what  he's  got  ter  say!"  remarked  Per- 
kins, still  mildly,  for  he  was  not  unmindful  of  the  fact 
that  Fenleigh  had  much  provocation. 

Then  Fenleigh 's  hands  dropped  by  his  side.     "If 

312 


THE  SLENDER  THREAD  OF  LIFE 

you've  got  any  excuse  to  make  for  not  stopping  that 
shot,  let's  hear  it!"  he  commanded. 

"I  haint  makin'  excuses,  fer  I  done  right.  Mr. 
Morello  says  I  done  right!"  looking  at  Fenleigh  with 
as  much  dignity  as  such  a  broken-down  mortal  could 
throw  into  a  look. 

"Yes,  he  did  right,  and  he  has  served  us  well," 
said  Lyndhurst,  who  had  just  finished  Morello 's  letter. 
"Let  me  congratulate  you,  Perkins,  you  must  be  a 
bit  of  a  detective  yourself !  Ever  make  the  acquaintance 
of  Sherlock  Holmes  ?" 

"No,  I  never  met  him,"  said  the  man  seriously,  but 
looking  pleased  at  the  commendation. 

"What  'right'  did  he  do?"  asked  Fenleigh,  and 
Lyndhurst  replied : 

"He  was  following  out  your  instructions  when  he 
left  the  house  yesterday  morning  in  Redding's  machine, 
pretending  he  was  dissatisfied  with  his  place  and  his 
employer,  and  was  taken  to  Seivers  Junction,  where 
he  was  employed  at  higher  wages,  and  set  to  work. 
Then  he  did  some  fine  detective  work,  and  when  the 
man  who  had  engaged  him  and  Redding  left,  he  knew 
where  they  were  to  meet  others  last  evening,  and  here 
again  he  did  some  fruitful  eaves-dropping  and,  in 
fact,  we  have  the  core  of  the  whole  miserable  plan. 
Perkins  has  done  well ;  and  even  if  he  had  been  able  to 
get  home  sooner,  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  pre- 
vent the  shooting.  Come  now,  Fenleigh,  you  wouldn't 
have  been  able,  if  you  had  been  here,  would  you  ?" 

313 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Fenleigh  turned  away  without  a  word.  They  were 
obviously  right.  That  deed  had  been  scheduled  to 
occur  sooner  or  later  and  no  one  could  tell  when  or 
where. 

"Did  you  come  from  the  hospital?"  he  asked  of 
Perkins. 

"Yes,  I  just  come  from  there!" 

"How  is  Mrs.  Morello?" 

"Out  of  her  head.     She  don't  know  nothing  yet." 

Then  Lyndhurst  enlightened  him,  dismissing  Perkins 
with  a  verbal  message  to  Morello. 

"She's  evidently  been  very  ill,  Fenleigh.  She's 
greatly  emaciated.  She  had  been  to  the  bungalow, 
and  had  asked  for  Morello,  early  in  the  evening,  so  they 
say.  Swanson  went  to  the  door,  and  told  her  he  was 
not  at  home.  Of  course,  she  was  strange  to  Swanson, 
and  he  suspected  a  plot  of  some  kind, — you  know 
Perkins  had  been  spirited  away, — and  he  admits  he 
shut  the  door  in  her  face.  So,  poor  girl,  being  shut 
from  her  home,  she  went  and  hid  herself  and  waited 
for  Morello,  and  when  he  came — well,  she  gave  her 
life  to  save  him!" 

The  tears  suddenly  gushed  from  the  old  man's 
eyes,  and  he  took  out  his  big  bandanna  handkerchief 
and  mopped  them  unashamed.  Lyndhurst  walked 
about  with  bowed  head  and  neither  spoke  for  awhile. 
Then  he  stopped  before  Fenleigh,  and  put  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Old  guard,  you  and  I  must  be  the  active  ones  now. 

314 


THE  SLENDER  THREAD  OF  LIFE 

Morello  will  come  when  he's  wanted.  There  will 
be  half  a  dozen  warrants  issued  to-morrow  about  the 
same  time  the  paper  makes  its  appearance." 

"Thank  God  we  have  them  rounded  up  at  last!" 
replied  Fenleigh. 

"  I  think  Redding  will  leave  the  country — forfeit  bail." 

"Why  should  he?" 

"Because  if  Mrs.  Morello  should  get  well,  she  will 
know  and  testify  against  him.  That  cry  of  terror  as 
she  threw  herself  upon  Morello  shows  that  she  saw 
him." 

"He  was  probably  masked." 

"  No,  he  was  not.     It  was  night  and  a  lonely  place. " 

"Then,  by  heaven,  he  shall  not  get  away!"  exclaimed 
Fenleigh,  springing  up.  "  I  know  the  law  and  he  shall 
not  escape!" 

"Perhaps  they  would  prefer  that  he  should  leave 
here — leave  here  never  to  come  back,"  said  Lyndhurst, 
in  a  low  voice.  "You  are  acquainted,  Fenleigh,  with 
Mrs.  Morello's  history,  I  understand." 

It  was  a  blow.  The  old  man  stopped  and  looked 
here  and  there  as  though  checkmated. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  him  to  go  away  and  never 
come  back?  He  cannot  live  here  after  this.  He  will 
see  it.  But  don't  fear,  old  man;  his  punishment 
doesn't  lie  with  you  and  me,  or  even  Morello;  and  just 
as  sure  as  that  the  deed  was  done,  will  its  consequences 
to  him  follow.  There  is  a  law  he  can  never  get  away 
from.  Let  us  leave  him  to  it. " 

315 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Fenleigh  seated  himself  disconsolately.  He  preferred 
bringing  cause  and  effect  nearer  together  and  he  liked 
to  have  a  hand  in  it,  but  Morello's  wife  had  to  be 
considered  before  all  else. 

The  bishop  called  up  then,  to  inquire  as  to  the  way 
things  were  going  at  the  hospital,  and  Lyndhurst  told 
him  what  he  had  just  learned,  then  Constance  appeared, 
and  Fenleigh  had  the  good  sense  to  go. 

Later  in  the  day  Constance,  Madam  Morello  and 
the  Bishop  met  at  the  hospital.  They  said  little  while 
waiting  for  Morello.  Madam  Morello  was  very  pale, 
but  outwardly  calm.  Constance  was  tearful  and  any- 
thing but  calm.  She  annoyed  her  mother. 

"  My  dear,  my  dear,  you  will  make  me  ill  with  your 
restlessness  and  emotion.  Do,  pray,  control  yourself," 
she  at  last  exclaimed. 

"Come,"  said  the  Bishop  to  Constance  "let  us  go 
out  and  walk  about  until  the  boy  can  come  to  us." 

So  the  young  girl  took  his  arm  and  they  went  out 
to  the  sunny  walks,  and  Madam  Morello  was  alone 
when  the  young  man  entered  the  waiting-room. 

He  stopped  when  he  saw  her,  and  regarded  her 
without  a  word. 

She  rose  hastily  and  was  advancing  toward  him 
with  outstretched  hand,  but  with  a  gesture  he  refused  it. 

"It's  of  no  use,  Mother,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"let  us  not  pretend.  My  God!"  he  continued,  in  an 
agony  of  feeling,  "  what  a  time  for  pretense !" 

"There  is  no  pretense,  Prentiss,  in  my  sorrow  over 

316 


THE  SLENDER  THREAD  OF  LIFE 

this  whole  dreadful  affair,  not  a  bit.  I  felt  it  my  duty 
to  come  to  see  you,"  she  said  with  the  air  of  a  martyr. 

"Well,  you  have  done  your  duty,  so  we'll  bring  it 
to  a  close,  please,  I  want  to  get  back  to  her." 

"Will  she  live?" 

"They  do  not  say." 

"  I  hope  she  will,  Prentiss !" 

He  looked  at  her  and  she  dropped  her  eyes.  He 
didn't  believe  her.  It  was  her  duty — to  convention. 
He  turned  to  go,  but  the  Bishop  and  Constance  caught 
sight  of  him  through  the  long  windows  and  came  in. 

Constance  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  wept 
upon  his  breast.  He  stroked  her  hair. 

"Will  she  live?"  she  asked  brokenly. 

"  Dear,  if  a  never-ending  stream  of  prayers  to  heaven 
can  avail,  she  will,"  he  returned  just  as  brokenly. 

A  few  more  words  they  passed  as  he  strained  her  to 
him,  and  then  he  put  her  away  and  the  Bishop  grasped 
his  hand.  They  looked  at  each  other  and  it  was  enough. 
No  word  was  spoken  just  at  first.  The  Bishop  tried 
and  tried  again,  but  the  things  he  would  utter  seemed 
useless.  Finally  he  said: 

"You know — you  know,  boy,  all  I  would  say,  don't 
you?" 

"Yes,  I  know,  Father.  Ring  me  up  to-morrow.  I 
pray  I  may  have  good  news." 

So  with  that  he  turned  and  went  again  to  Dolores' 
bedside. 


817 


CHAPTER  XXXm 

AMENDS 

THE  next  day  the  storm  broke.  The  Drag-Net  was 
full  of  it.  There  were  a  dozen  or  more  officials  con- 
nected with  the  affair.  There  were  some  arrests  and 
warrants  were  out  for  other  men, — henchmen  of  the 
accused,  who  had  scurried  to  cover  at  the  first  indica- 
tion of  discovery.  Consternation  reigned  in  the  ranks 
of  the  lawbreakers,  and  the  charges  and  counter- 
charges smelled  to  heaven  in  their  rottenness. 

For  the  time  being  the  prison  league,  and  what  it 
wished  to  accomplish,  fell  into  the  background.  That 
was  a  peaceful  revolution  or  evolution,  and  was  bound 
to  go  on  through  all  and  over  all,  as  every  effort  for 
a  greater  humanity  must. 

Morello  communicated  with  Lyndhurst  and  Fenleigh 
by  phone,  or  sent  a  letter  by  Perkins  when  it  was  any- 
thing of  an  exceedingly  secret  nature,  but  he  did  not 
leave  the  hospital. 

He  was  the  wonder  of  the  efficient  blue-gowned 
nurses,  who  watched  the  frail  figure  upon  the  bed; 
the  wonder,  because  he  seemed  to  need  no  sleep  or 
rest,  but  only  to  look  at  his  wife  with  a  world  of  adora- 
tion in  his  great  brown  eyes,  adoiation  so  intense  that 
it  seemed  it  must  thrill  her  with  life  and  strength. 

318 


AMENDS 

A  week  passed  away,  during  which  her  gentle  spirit 
fluttered  like  an  uncertain  dove  between  heaven  and 
earth.  Now  it  seemed  as  though  it  had  already  taken 
its  flight  to  the  wide-open  gates  of  day,  so  faint  and  slow 
pulsed  life's  red  stream  within  her  form,  and  then  the 
beautiful  shadowy  eyes  would  open  and  look  about 
with  a  startled  inquiry  as  though  cognizance  of  earth's 
difficulties  and  problems  was  once  again  forced  upon 
the  weary  brain. 

At  such  times  Morello  was  breathless  with  suspense. 
He  would  kneel  and  bend  over  and  whisper  her  name — 
calling,  ever  calling  her  back  from  the  border  land, 
ever  luring  her  soul  with  his  great  love. 

The  wound  alone  would  not  have  killed,  but  opposed 
to  it  was  no  recuperative  strength.  So  frail  and  worn 
was  her  body,  that  the  shock  of  the  deed  almost  tri- 
umphed in  its  destruction — almost,  but  not  quite; 
for  there  inheres  within  each  soul  somewhat  of  heaven 
that  earthly  deeds  cannot  touch;  somewhat  of  heaven, 
that  heaven  has  to  call,  before  the  slender  thread  of 
life  is  snapped  and  the  call  obeyed. 

There  came  a  day  after  the  week  of  doubt  and  terror, 
when,  following  a  deep  sleep,  there  came  a  conscious 
awakening.  Morello  was  there,  watching,  and  her 
first  glance  informed  with  the  light  of  reason  fell  upon 
his  face. 

A  world  of  worship  flashed  forth  in  his  look  as  he 
bent  over  her  and  whispered:  "Dolores,  my  love,  my 
dear,  dear  love." 

319 


THE  DRAG-NET 

She  said  no  word,  but  smiling  faintly,  she  pushed 
her  hand  over  upon  his,  that  lay  upon  the  counterpane, 
and  softly  and  reverently  as  ever  mother  kissed  her 
baby's  cheek,  he  kissed  the  thin  white  hand. 

Then  she  closed  her  eyes  and  slept  again — a  sleep 
of  restoration.  It  was  the  call  of  earth  that  the  soul 
had  heard,  or,  rather,  the  heavenly  call  of  a  good  man's 
love. 

In  another  week  she  was  well  enough  to  be  moved 
and  a  question  arose  about  it. 

"Your  room  is  waiting,  dear,"  Morello  said.  "It's 
just  as  you  left  it.  I  have  guarded  it  for  you. " 

"  O,  I  can't  go  to  the  bungalow — not  to  the  bungalow, " 
she  returned  reluctantly. 

"Is  it  because  of  Mother?"  he  asked  gently. 

"  Mrs.  Sanford  wants  to  take  me  home  to  nurse  me 
back  to  strength,"  she  said,  avoiding  a  direct  answer. 
" She  is  such  a  good  friend.  I  think  I'll  go  with  her." 

"But  I'm  a  good  friend  too,  am  I  not,  and  I've 
waited  so  long  for  you,  dear." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  now  how  I  came  to  be  where  I  was 
that  night,"  she  said  imploringly,  for  he  had  never 
been  willing  to  allow  her  to  go  over  it. 

"The  doctor's  orders  are  that  you  are  not  to  speak 
of  anything  exciting,  and  everything  is  well,  now,  dear, 
so  why  go  over  it  ?"  he  returned. 

"I  must  tell  you,  I  must,"  she  returned  nervously. 
"I  won't  get  excited." 

"Well  then,  I'll  listen,  but  don't  enlarge  upon  it, 

320 


AMENDS 

because  now  that  I  have  you  again — I  have  the  world,'* 
he  answered. 

She  flushed  beautifully  and  her  long  dark  lashes 
swept  her  cheek.  She  clasped  and  unclasped  her  hands 
a  time  or  two  and  he  feared  a  nervous  chill,  but  still 
thought  it  best  not  to  deny  her  again. 

"I  sold  my  brooch — grandmother's  brooch,"  she 
said,  plunging  into  the  midst  of  her  story. 

"Here  it  is,"  Morello  answered  quickly,  taking  the 
tiny  box  from  an  inner  pocket,  and  opening  it. 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  delight  as  she  took  it  from 
his  hand  and  pinned  it  in  the  breast  of  her  gown,  and 
her  lips  trembled  as  she  asked  how  he  had  found  it. 

He  made  a  pretense  of  adjusting  her  pillows  for  a 
moment  to  give  her  time  to  recover  her  composure; 
then  returned. 

"I  have  a  story  to  tell  too,  and  I  think  mine  comes 
first.  Now  listen. 

"When  I  got  home  that  night  and  found  the  little 
note,  '  For  your  sake,  that  you  may  be  restored  to  your 
family  and  your  inheritance,' — you  remember  it,  dear, 
I  was  like  a  mad  man.  I  went  first  to  Mother,  and — 
and  I'll  not  pain  you  by  repeating  what  I  said;  then 
I  called  Fenleigh,  and  we  made  every  train  leaving 
the  city  that  night,  but  you  could  not  be  found, 
knew  you  hadn't  money  enough  for  the  journey  and 
Fenleigh  suggested  that  you  had  sold  your  jewelry. 
The  next  day  I  searched  the  town  over  and  I  found 
it  and  then  I  knew— or  thought  I  knew— that  you  had 


THE  DRAG-NET 

gone.  I  bought  it  back  and  have  kept  it  next  my  heart 
since, — until  I  should  have  you  to  keep  next  my  heart, 
darling. " 

Her  hands  fluttered  about  the  counterpane,  as  he 
talked,  and  her  eyes  fell  before  his  gaze,  but  she  soon 
recovered  and  once  again  attempted  to  make  her 
explanation. 

"I  was  too  ill  to  start  when  I  got  the  money,"  she 
said.  "  I  had  been  going  from  shop  to  shop  to  sell  the 
brooch  and  every  moment  I  was  afraid  of  meeting — 
him,  and  I  found  I  could  scarcely  keep  my  feet.  I 
went  to  that  little  Chesterfield  Inn,  away  over  on  the 
West  side,  and  I  thought  that  I  should  be  all  right 
by  the  next  day,  but  the  next  day  I  was  much  worse, 
and  a  doctor  was  called  for  me.  I  gave  my  maiden 
name,  Alice  Brookfield.  When  I  was  just  able  to  be 
up  I  found  my  money  was  low.  Then  I  knew  I  should 
have  to  go  to  you  for  more,  and  I  wanted  no  one  else 
to  know,  so  I  waited  until  night.  I  could  scarcely  walk 
and  when  I  got  to  the  door  I  found  strange  people 
there,  and  a  rough  man  shut  the  door  upon  me. " 

She  was  still  so  weak  that  the  tears  streamed  down 
her  face  as  she  thought  of  being  sent  adrift  in  the  night 
from  the  bungalow. 

"Don't  let  us  dwell  upon  it,"  said  Morello  gently. 

"Yes, — just  this  once,"  she  begged. 

"But  he  thought  you  leagued  with  the  enemy,  he 
didn't  know  you.  They  were  desperate  and  were 
doing  all  sorts  of  things,"  he  returned. 

322 


AMENDS 

"I  know.  I'm  glad,  so  glad  that  he  did  think  so; 
for  now,  now — I — someway,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
had  made  amends." 

"Amends!"  he  ejaculated  woaderingly,  seeking  her 
meaning. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  gathering  strength,  "Yes,  I've 
made  amends.  Amends  for  all  mistakes.  I'm  free 
now.  It  was  good  of  God  to  show  me  the  way.  It 
seems  so  strange.  How  quick  thought  is.  When  I 
tottered  out  of  my  hiding  place, — for  I  was  so  afraid 
of  being  out  alone,  that  I  hid  behind  the  bushes — when 
I  tottered  out  into  the  path  as  you  strode  by,  and  I 
saw  that  man,  ready  to  kill,  my  soul  said  something 
to  me,  said:  'God  sent  you  here  to  save  him,  and — 
your  sins  shall  be  washed  white  as  wool.'  I  had  even 
time  to  feel  a  thrill  of  gladness,  that  there  was  a  way, — 
to  make  amends." 

Morello  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  for  a 
moment  silence  fell  between  them.  Then  she  went  on : 

"I'm  free  now,  dear  friend,  free.  I  can  hold  up  my 
head  and  be  free  always  now.  I  want  to  go  with  Mrs. 
Sanford.  Don't  oppose  it,  please.  We  are  not  really 
married,  you  know." 

Again  a  silence  fell.  Her  bright  head  rested  against 
her  pillows,  and  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  him  appeal- 
ingly. 

Would  happiness  ever  take  up  her  abode  with  him, 
he  asked  himself,  or  forever  hold  aloof?  He  began 
to  be  again  afraid  of  the  future. 

323 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"I  wish  it  could  have  been  otherwise,  dear,  but  you 
must  do  just  as  you  wish.  If  you  will  promise  me  one 
thing,  I  will  be  content  for  a  time,  only  for  a  time, 
remember.  Never  try  to  go  to  England  or  anywhere 
without  consulting  me.  You  see,  you  have  not  restored 
me  to  my  family  or  my  fortune  by  trying  to  go  back 
to  your  home.  You  are  my  family  and  my  fortune, 
the  light  of  my  life,  dear." 

Then  Mrs.  Sanford  came  into  the  room  and  all  was 
arranged  between  them. 

The  next  day  the  hospital  ambulance  took  Dolores 
to  Judge  Sanford 's  house,  and  Constance  and  Mrs. 
Sanford  helped  the  forces  of  her  young  nature  to  build 
up  her  strength  and  beauty  again,  and  here  Morello 
came,  not  as  a  husband,  but  as  a  lover,  a  wooer. 


324 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

CONCLUSION 

A  FEW  days  later  Constance  came  fluttering  up  the 
walk  like  a  bright-plumaged  bird,  and  Dolores,  seeing 
her,  went  to  open  the  door,  saying  as  she  did  so: 

"Constance  is  coming,  Mrs.  Sanford,  may  I  show 
her  in  here?" 

"Yes,  dear,  we're  all  one  big  family,  you  know." 

"  What  is  it,  tell  me,  what  is  it  ?"  Dolores  was  saying 
as  the  girls  entered  the  room  together. 

"  What  is  what,  Mousie  ?"  demurely  asked  Constance. 

"You  know.  You  have  something  on  your  mind, 
you  know  you  have,  Constance,  you  show  it." 

"My  wedding — of  course,  my  wedding,"  answered 
the  prospective  bride. 

"Well,  I  suppose  if  I  were  going  to  be  married  I 
should  be  thinking  of  it,  too,"  answered  Dolores 
satisfied. 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins?"  The 
startling  question  was  launched  quite  unexpected- 
ly at  Dolores,  and  quite  without  forethought  by 
Constance. 

"Why,  why!  certainly  I  do.  What  a  question!" 
exclaimed  Dolores,  laughing.  "What  put  that  into 
your  mind,  Connie  ?" 

325 


THE  DRAG-NET 

"Have  you  forgiven  all  other  people's  sins?"  the 
girl  followed  up. 

Then  the  light  fled  from  Dolores'  face,  and  the  red 
color  of  confusion  dyed  cheek  and  brow  and  neck. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  droopingly.  "Yes,  but  not 
my  own,  oh  not  my  own!" 

"I  didn't  mean  that,  Mousie,  I  was  not  thinking 
of  that.  You  haven't  any  sins.  I  was  trying  to  lead 
up  to  something  judiciously,  you  know.  I  was  trying 
to  get  you  into  a  proper  state  of  mind  to  tell  you  some- 
thing," cried  Constance. 

"Well,  I'm  in  it  now,  so  tell  me." 

"Then  here,  now  remember,  you  believe  in  the 
forgiveness  of  sins,"  cried  Constance  fishing  out  of 
her  hand  bag  a  letter  which  she  handed  to  Dolores. 
The  reading  was  watched,  too,  and  its  effects  earnestly 
noted.  It  ran: 

"  My  dear  Dolores: 

"Mrs.  Sanford  is  very  very  kind,  and  we  cannot 
be  too  grateful  to  her  for  what  she  has  done  for  you 
but  I  think  it  time  that  your  visit  terminated  there, 
and  that  you  return,  either  to  the  bungalow,  or  come  to 
us.  As  Constance's  wedding  is  so  soon,  perhaps  the 
latter  would  be  better.  I  would  come  for  you  myself, 
but  that  I  am  not  at  all  well.  Please  return  with 
Constance — it  will  be  much  better  so. 

"J.  M." 

"Think    a    minute,"    commanded    Constance    as 
326 


CONCLUSION 

Dolores  was  about  to  speak.  "Think  a  minute, 
Mousie,  do.  It  isn't  much,  I  know,  but  if  you  know 
her  as  I  do  you  would  see  that  it  is  a  great  deal  for 
her." 

"Yes,  I  did  not  expect  it,  but  I  can't  go,"  answered 
Dolores,  adding  for  Mrs.  Sanford's  enlightenment, 
"Madam  Morello  has  asked  me  to  return  with  Con- 
stance. She  thinks  my  visit  has  been  quite  long 
enough." 

"  O,  but  you  promised  to  stay  until  I  would  release 
you,"  replied  Mrs.  Sanford  gaily. 

"Well,  won't  you,  won't  you?"  asked  Constance 
turning  to  her. 

"No,  not  just  yet.  When  you  are  off  to  England, 
perhaps,"  replied  that  lady  decidedly. 

"But  mother  is  going  with  us,  to  stay,"  said  Constance. 

"But  I  can't  go,  dear.  Don't  urge  me.  I  should 
grow  ill  again,  I  know,"  replied  Dolores.  "I  haven't 
much  strength  as  yet,  I  must  take  care  of  it." 

"I  think  she  wants  to  make  up,  and  you  said  you 
believed  in  forgiveness  of  sins,"  replied  Constance, 
showing  her  great  disappointment. 

"I  don't  pretend  to  reach  up  to  my  ideals,"  said 
Dolores.  "No,  I  can't  go.  I  will  answer  the  note 
politely,  but  I  must  be  free  to  stay  where  I  wish." 

They  spent  a  pleasant  hour  together  and  then  Lynd- 
hurst  came  seeking  his  fiancee  and  Morello  to  pay  his 
daily  visit. 

Lyndhurst  and  Constance  soon  left  them  and  Mrs. 

327 


THE  DRAG-NET 

Sanford  excused  herself  and  left  the  drawing-room 
to  Dolores  and  Morello. 

"How  kind  she  is  to  go,"  the  young  man  remarked 
laughing. 

"Yes,  isn't  she?"  returned  Dolores,  throwing  for 
the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance,  a  coquettish  look 
at  him.  "  It's  really  as  though  she  thought  you  came 
a-courting. " 

His  soul  flew  like  lightning  up  into  the  realms  of 
love  fulfilled,  and  romance  that  was  reality  supreme. 

"Darling,  my  darling,"  he  cried.  "No  lover  ever 
came  a-courting  more  mad  with  love  than  I.  Say 
some  more  things  like  that,  dear.  Be  light-hearted 
like  other  girls.  You've  never  once  been  light-hearted, 
Dolores,  and  I  want  to  see  you  so." 

"I'm  going  to  be,  Prentiss,  I'm  going  to  be.  I've 
made  up  my  mind  now,  now,  since  I've  paid  my  debt 
and  my  sin  has  been  wiped  away." 

"The  sin  was  not  yours,  sweet,  but — " 

"Yes,  yes,  it  was,  in  part,"  here  she  became  wistful — 
"I  don't  believe  evil  could  touch  us  if  there  was  not 
some  response  to  it  within  ourselves,  do  you  ?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  philosophize  about  it  at  all,"  he 
answered.  "  Both  of  us  have  passed  through  a  stormy 
phase  of  existence  and  it's  high  time  we  had  some 
peace  and  happiness;  that's  all  that  concerns  me  at 
present." 

"I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  question — just  one,  we 
won't  dwell  upon  it.  Has  —  has  —  he  gone  away?" 

328 


CONCLUSION 

Her  voice  was  low  and  intense.  The  whereabouts 
of  Redding  was  much  to  her.  If  only  they  were  not 
in  the  same  city,  if  only  there  was  no  danger  of  their 
ever  meeting  again.  The  thought  of  meeting  him 
was  the  one  drawback  to  her  happiness,  the  one  bar 
to  her  complete  freedom.  Nothing  could  induce 
her  to  testify  against  him  as  long  as  she  alone  had  been 
injured,  as  long  as  Morello  was  safe. 

"Yes,  we  think  he  has  left  for  good.  An  agent  has 
his  property  for  sale  much  below  its  value.  I  feel  sure 
he  will  never  come  back." 

But  Redding  did  return,  not  as  he  went,  in  all  the 
anger,  chagrin  and  lust  of  his  shameful  years,  not  in 
all  the  arrogance  and  lawlessness  of  his  evil  character, 
not  in  bold  defiance  of  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  for 
one  of  God's  laws  had  seized  him  in  its  grasp. 

An  old  enemy  had  found  him — a  brother  of  one  of 
his  earlier  victims,  for  he  had  ever  left  despair  and  sorrow 
behind  him.  He  was  boarding  a  steamer  for  the  Old 
World,  having  traveled  across  the  continent  to  escape 
a  trial  for  attempting  Morello 's  life.  He  did  not  care 
for  Perkins,  but  there  was  Dolores,  getting  well,  and 
they  would  never  feel  safe  while  he  was  at  liberty, 
so  they  would  try  to  put  him  behind  the  bars.  Well, 
he  would  fool  them,  that  was  all,  and  that  was  easy 
enough.  His  wife  had  gone  back  to  her  people,  en- 
tirely out  of  love  with  him,  and  there  was  really  nothing 
to  keep  him  this  side  the  water.  There  was  the  Med- 
iterranean, there  was  Egypt,  there  was  Italy,  and  he 

329 


THE  DRAG-NET 

had  money  to  live  in  these  places  like  a  sultan.  America 
was  not  to  his  taste.  One  was  not  looked  upon  as  a 
beast  for  a  little  indulgence  in  the  Old  World.  Yes, 
he  would  go  abroad;  and  those  dullards  should  stay 
behind  and  live  out  their  virtuous  lives  striving  to  do 
good,  to  reform  the  woild. 

With  a  sneer  upon  his  face  he  laughed  at  the  thought 
of  it,  as  he  stood  upon  the  deck  and  watched  the  people 
board  the  steamer.  Then  his  face  blanched,  and  a 
weakness  seized  him.  He  would  have  flown  but  he 
could  not  stir.  He  was  chained  to  the  spot  as  though 
his  body  had  been  loaded  with  irons — chained  by  its 
weakness.  The  face  he  saw  coming  up  the  gangway 
was  turned  toward  him  and  there  was  a  world  of  hatred 
in  its  expression,  hatred  and  exultation.  It  was  but 
a  few  moments,  but  it  seemed  an  age  until  the  man 
had  reached  the  deck.  Great  drops  of  sweat  poured 
from  Redding's  forehead.  Was  there  then  an  unseen 
Power  whose  laws  never  failed  ?  Was  it  true,  after 
all,  that  what  a  man  sowed  he  would  surely  reap? 
He  knew  what  the  man  was  going  to  do ;  he  knew,  but 
could  not  lift  a  hand  or  utter  a  cry.  He  was  chained 
to  the  spot  by  weakness  and  horror,  awaiting  the 
end. 

It  came  in  a  moment.  The  bullet  found  his  heart, 
and  he  fell  just  as  he  had  thought  to  escape. 

A  telegraphic  dispatch  came  to  Morello's  paper 
telling  of  the  tragedy,  and  he  sent  this  line  with  the 
account  to  Dolores. 

330 


Once  again  in  a  filmy  white  gown  she  met  him. 


CONCLUSION 

"  An  immutable  law  has  freed  you,  dear. 

Morello." 

He  did  not  go  to  see  her  that  day.  In  his  great 
delicacy  he  thought  it  best  to  give  her  time  to  re-ad- 
just her  thoughts,  but  the  next  evening  he  came. 

Once  again  in  a  filmy  white  gown  she  met  him. 
Once  again  with  roses  in  her  hair,  and  a  welcoming 
smile,  she  gave  him  her  hand  at  the  door.  She  had 
been  watching  and  knew  his  step.  She  did  not  speak 
but  her  eyes  held  a  volume  of  meaning  as  she  went 
before  him  into  the  drawing-roc.  -.  There,  she  turned 
and  held  out  her  hands,  knowing  the  word  he  had  so 
long  been  waiting  for. 

"Take  me,  dear,  take  me,  for  I  am  yours,"  she 
whispered,  and  Morello,  trembling  in  his  great  and 
reverent  joy,  folded  her  to  his  breast  and  sought  the 
heaven  of  her  lips. 

"And  you  will  go  back  to  the  bungalow,  my  darling, 
and  make  our  home  radant  again  ?"  he  asked,  scarcely 
realizing  as  yet  his  complete  victory. 

"The  Bishop  shall  marry  us  to-morrow,  love,  and 
we'll  pass  our  honeymoon  in  the  bungalow,"  she 
answered,  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

"And  you  love  me,  Dolores,  you  love  me?"  Foolish 
fellow  that  he  was,  he  had  to  be  told  in  so  many  words. 

"Love  you!"  she  exclaimed,  "love  you,  I  can't 
express  it,  Prentiss,  at  all,  some  way." 

"All  things  are  changed,  my  very  soul's  unbound," 

331 


THE  DRAG-NET 

she  quoted  laughing.  "  You  see,  I  learned  your  favorite 
poem,  dear,  and  I've  thought  of  it  so  much."  Then 
pressing  her  to  him  he  repeated  the  last  line  in  un- 
speakable thankfulness. 

"And  sorrow  is  no  more — thou  lovest  me." 


THE   END 


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